Now the khedive regained his balance. “But I told Hassan to take my artifacts to my palace in Ismailia and have the rest sent on to Cairo via the Fresh Water Canal. He was acting on my behalf.”
Violet corrected Pasha again. “No, Hassan and Rashad were worried only about their own contraband that night. I believe the captain suspected they were up to no good. Maybe he threatened to report them. Maybe he attempted to blackmail them. Perhaps he even wanted to be part of their scheme. In any case,” she said, turning back to Hassan, “you killed Captain Naser, and when the ship became grounded as a result, you fled back to Port Said with your trunk of goods, probably by some passing caravan. When we went down to dislodge Naser’s ship, you intentionally dumped his body in the water right in front of me to disguise the cause of his death, and, just as with Yusef Halabi, you whisked him away before I could properly report on him.
“You told me then that Pasha had no regard for the captain, and would only seek to please de Lesseps. I did not realize that you were hinting your great displeasure at the khedive’s eagerness to be associated with Europe.
“Frustrated in your attempt to get the trunk down to Port Ismailia ahead of the flotilla sailing, you decided to hide the trunk aboard one of the delegation ships while everyone was still preoccupied with the aftermath of the fire, along with the renewed fireworks. You thought that if the trunk were discovered, that country would be blamed, and if you were later caught removing it, you could claim that you had uncovered the country’s plot to steal antiquities from the khedive and were only trying to get them back for your master.
“Viribus Unitis was probably the nearest ship you found. Stowing the trunk aboard, you thought you were safe in your intrigues. Unfortunately, Karl Dorn stumbled upon your treasure chest. I noticed that he was a man in great physical pain, and without question he would have found the opium stuffed in the trunk to be a good temporary solution to his problem. Alas, it was a deadly solution, and he accidentally killed himself with it.
“His death was of no import to you, other than a realization that he must have found the trunk. So you removed it from the ship, and, knowing that there was a contingent of American Civil War soldiers in attendance, you decided to try your hand at negotiating the trade of the valuable opium-laden artifacts for some of their weapons, which you could transfer directly to Orabi.”
Hassan shrugged, apparently no longer willing to protest his innocence. “They are a lowly lot, but a lowly lot with excellent access to a cache of weapons.”
“This would also serve a secondary purpose for you, which was to manipulate the very men the khedive had hired to Westernize his army into cooperating in the destruction of all of Pasha’s plans for Egypt.”
“How could you possibly know this?” Asa Brooks spoke up for the first time.
“Colonel Mott told me, although I did not understand it at the time. He said that he was glad that Dorn hadn’t been killed by any weapons, and at the time I thought he was making reference to the earlier deaths, but by that point Hassan had attempted to work a deal with him.”
“And to think that Her Majesty had asked me to keep a watchful eye over you on this trip. You were instead watching over all of us!” The ambassador’s man was joined in bemused laughter by Bertie, but Violet was determined not to be distracted from her allegations.
“You must have opened negotiations with the veterans, attempting to convince them that they could become instantly rich and sail for home without having to continue troubling themselves with training Pasha’s army, if only they would agree to an ongoing weapons deal with Colonel Orabi. How could Pasha’s meager payments compare to the infinitely more valuable treasure you would give them?
“But you assumed wrongly that they would all be interested. In fact, Thaddeus Mott rebuffed you, and you were about to give up when Caleb Purdy approached you, seeking to try some opium. We witnessed the aftereffects of it in Purdy during the picnic. You may have even negotiated an exchange of weapons for just opium, enabling you to return the artifacts to the museum, an ideal solution.
“Purdy agreed to steal some rifles and swords, and to do the exchange with you and Rashad during the palace party a few nights ago. However, he showed up without the agreed-upon cache of weapons. He accepted the artifact stuffed with packets of opium, but said he was having second thoughts about the bargain he had struck. An argument ensued, perhaps, and you walked away from each other.
“Rashad went to the servants’ tent party, where you knew the rest of the soldiers were, and managed to remove Sam’s saber from him while you were still in attendance on the party in the palace. You coaxed Purdy out of the servants’ tent, threatened him more, but when he insisted that he was no longer interested in selling you weapons, you killed him and dumped his body in the cloakroom, then skulked out through some side entrance. Back outside, you nearly ran into Isabelle Dumont and Ross Keating together in one of the tableaux. They fled, and you picked up her dropped shawl, using it to wipe Purdy’s blood off yourself. Julie Lesage found the shawl and created a fuss around it.”
“This is very dramatic, my lady Harper,” Hassan said. “Almost worthy of Mariette’s story. Perhaps Pasha will have Verdi put it to music, as well? If I were responsible for Purdy’s death, why would I help you to have contact with those men, and why wouldn’t Colonel Mott report on me to you?”
Violet ignored the taunt. “That was what made you so clever. I imagine Mott was scared into silence by your presence, at both the discovery of Purdy’s body and then, when you escorted me to the dungeon, the false belief that you were responsible for the men’s imprisonment and that a further word of accusation from you could mean a secret execution in the night.
“You made me believe you were assisting me, but in reality you were letting Colonel Mott know how much power you held over the veterans’ lives . . .as well as my own. However, of all the deaths you caused, whether intentional or inadvertent, there was one in which you were not successful, and that was your attempt on my own life. But you played this bad card perfectly, as being in your trust in the prison spoke volumes to Mott, namely that you held sway over my life, too. Unbeknownst to me at the time, I was your hostage to quiet Mott.”
She turned to Pasha. “Your Highness, Hassan must have been inside de Lesseps’s villa the day of the party, waiting upon you.”
Pasha nodded.
“I was there also, at Louise-Hélène’s request. I overheard you arguing with Tewfik, and shortly thereafter I was attacked and buried alive inside a mausoleum.”
“Yes,” Hassan growled. “The lady would be surprised by how difficult it was to break into the mausoleum and relock it, as well as by how heavy she is as dead weight.”
“As surprised as you must have been to find me walking after burying me alive,” she shot back.
“I told Rashad to make sure you were—” He stopped, realizing his mistake, even as a pair of soldiers went off in search of Hassan’s brother without needing instruction from Pasha.
Violet now addressed the crowd at large. “Hassan Salib is the worst sort of villain, for he extended great kindness to me . . .a kindness meant to disguise his evil deeds, for why would I ever suspect the man who had helped me secretly meet with my imprisoned husband, at great risk to his own personal welfare? It clouded my judgment, and prevented me from understanding the truth as soon as I should have.”
“I should have simply drowned you like the pestilent little rat you are, my lady Harper, once I knew you had survived Rashad’s burial. He is of very bad temper, and that temper makes him hasty and clumsy. I, however, am neither rash nor oafish like my brother. No, I am very polished, and it is what has made me very successful in my life. In fact—”
Only now did Violet realize that Hassan had been slowly relaxing his arms in such a manner that the guards next to him hadn’t noticed, and had in fact released him. Before anyone could properly react, Hassan had slipped away and stormed up the stage steps to where Violet stood. In an insta
nt, his hands were around her throat as he shook her head violently. She attempted to push him away from her, but it was no use against the man whose calculated veneer had melted away like wax and was replaced with the feral growling and loathing stare of a jungle cat.
If he was the calm and sophisticated brother, what must have Rashad’s victims endured?
Violet couldn’t breathe, and the pain of Hassan’s fingers against her windpipe was unbearable. She beat uselessly against his chest, but knew that it was as effective as the beating of a butterfly’s wings. From somewhere far in the distance, she heard chairs being overturned and the din of people shouting; then everything went as black as the inside of a mausoleum.
As Violet came to, she realized she was lying on the floor of the stage, and once again began laughing hysterically to herself to think that she had almost died inside a stage set to look like a crypt.
Multiple faces peered down at her: the Prince of Wales, Sir Henry, Eugénie, General Ignatiev, and Théophile Gautier, who pursed his lips and said, “Madame Harper, I am at a loss as to describing this scene, but I think we can agree that it is the final scene of the play, oui?”
It was the Empress Eugénie who helped her up and rearranged her skirts, fluttering over Violet as if she herself were a lady’s maid. Violet was enveloped in the bizarre irony of it all.
However, she was quickly regaining her senses, and pushed through the assembly around her to find Pasha, who was still offstage, overseeing the arrest of the brothers.
“Your Highness,” Violet said, clutching her bruised throat with one hand and raising her voice to ensure every single person heard her, “I beg you to release my husband and his friends straightaway.” Her voice croaked, but he turned to her and offered a curt nod.
With Hassan and Rashad in the custody of some Egyptian soldiers who probably had been trained by Mott and his men, the Americans were freed in mere minutes. There was, of course, no apology from Pasha or de Lesseps, who deemed this a trivial matter next to the international opening of the canal, but it didn’t matter to Violet. Sam was at liberty, and his condition was nothing a night of sleep, a good meal, and some time at the washbasin couldn’t repair.
Nevertheless, Violet Harper was most desperate to leave
Egypt—a land full of exotic spices, intoxicating drinks, enthralling recreations, beautiful jewelry . . . and far, far too many badly handled corpses.
Chapter 32
November 22, 1869
Port Said
After a lavish farewell breakfast on the shores of Port Said, the delegation members began drifting off to their respective ships for their return journeys. Violet and Sam waited for the Prince of Wales and Sir Henry to complete their own boarding before joining them on Newport.
Captain Nares had agreed to pilot Sam and Violet to the Italian coastline, where they would spend a peaceful week in Pompeii before making their own way back to London. Violet looked forward to Italy’s reputedly beautiful museums, artwork, and cathedrals, in addition to the Pompeii ruins. It was almost as if she and Sam would be on the grand tour together.
As they stood watching the glorious array of flotilla ships for the last time, they were visited by other delegation members who also had not yet boarded. Violet was touched that Crown Prince Frederick came to her.
“A performance vell done, Frau Harper,” Frederick said, taking her hand and offering a courteous bow over it, a high honor to her.
“It was only what any wife would do for her husband, Your Highness,” she replied. “I must remind you again that we are stopping in Pompeii on our return to London. Are you certain you would not wish to have this letter taken to Her Majesty by another courier so that it arrives more quickly?”
Frederick smiled as he dropped her hand. “I do not believe I vould trust any other courier as much as I now trust you.”
Eugénie swept up to her after Frederick moved on and clasped one of her hands in both of hers. “Ah, Madame Harper, you missed the most melodious of breakfasts. Pasha invited me aboard El Mahrousa because the piano arrived, and we had a little performance during our eggs with fava beans. The instrument holds a place of honor on the yacht.” She frowned, turning more serious. “I confess I will miss your strange presence. You became my little confidante, oui? And now I return to France to face my husband and le chaos in his foreign policy. Pray that we will not be at war by this time next year. My félicitations on your release, Monsieur Harper.”
Sam took Eugénie’s proffered hand and bowed over it.
Julie was with Eugénie, but studiously avoided Violet’s gaze as she waited for her mistress to conclude with the undertaker before scurrying away behind her, never saying a word or even acknowledging Violet’s presence.
Isabelle Dumont also did not meet Violet’s gaze, but only because she and Ross Keating were so completely engrossed in each other as they whispered, giggled, and made cow eyes at each other.
“Good Lord,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I wonder if he means to have her right here on the wharf.”
“Sam!” Violet said, laughing. “I’m sure they are quite disconcerted at having to be separated from each other, since for some reason Sergeant Keating has chosen to stay here with Colonel Mott and Sergeant Morris and won’t be ready to leave here for quite some time. I imagine Isabelle will wish to return to France with her mistress.”
“Actually, this is not the case,” came a voice from behind Violet. It was Louise-Hélène.
“Isabelle plans to remain behind with Sergeant Keating until his work with training Pasha’s army is complete. Then they will return to the United States together, although Keating has no family and they are not sure where to go.”
“Hmm.” Sam’s look was pensive. “Maybe we should offer to put them in touch with Susanna and Ben, if they wouldn’t mind the rather rough wilds of Colorado.” He went to talk to the lovebirds, whistling as he tapped his cane along the ground.
“I must thank you, Madame Harper,” Louise-Hélène said warmly, “for ensuring Sergeant Keating’s freedom. She was nearly dérangé over his imprisonment, as I’m sure you were over that of your husband.”
Violet nodded but did not respond, unable to dwell upon the horror of what might have been had she not figured out what had happened.
“I think then,” Louise-Hélène continued, “that Isabelle will be very happy in her new homeland, and that you, too, will be happy with your husband when you return to Britain. I, too, intend to have a very happy and blessed marriage with de Lesseps.”
At this pronouncement, all thoughts of the disaster that might have been fled from Violet’s mind. She impulsively hugged the young woman and found her face buried in that wild thundercloud of dark hair.
“I, too, believe you will have a most contented life, mademoiselle,” she said, stepping back and taking Louise-Hélène’s hand in her own.
Louise-Hélène smiled. “Actually, I have a secret. De Lesseps says we will marry as soon as all of you have gone. Just la cérémonie private here with the khedive and a few attendants. De Lesseps says—” And now Louise-Hélène blushed prettily. “He says that he can no longer wait for me.”
At this, Violet felt more happiness than she had at any point during this fateful trip to Egypt.
“Ah, there is de Lesseps now,” Louise-Hélène said. “If you will excuse me . . .” She ran to meet her fiancé, who looked up with a broad smile at Louise-Hélène’s arrival. He caught Violet’s gaze from behind his intended, and although he did not stop smiling, for a moment it did not quite reach his eyes.
Violet was certain that she would remain forever in de Lesseps’s mind as the woman who nearly ruined the opening of the Suez Canal.
Sam was still conversing with Isabelle and Ross Keating, and based on Isabelle’s hand fluttering and Keating’s thumping of Sam’s back, they were quite receptive to Sam’s idea. Violet herself noticed Richard Lepsius and Auguste Mariette in a heated conversation next to a tent selling g
old cartouches to the departing travelers.
“Gentlemen, is all well?” she asked as she approached them.
“What?” Mariette said, startled out of his discourse by Violet’s arrival. “Ah, Madame Harper, you have arrived to settle an argument for us. We know that both sexes wore wigs in ancient Egypt. But women who kept their own hair were told they could bring back its natural color by rubbing in a mixture of oil and the boiled blood of a black cat or bull. Would women do this with their human-hair wigs, as well? Lepsius says yes, but I say the color of the wigs would not fade, so there would be no point to it.”
“You are the Dummkopf,” Lepsius said. “Of course the hair would change. Without question it would fade.”
“No, no, no,” Mariette retorted. “It is you who is the Dum—”
“Gentlemen,” Violet interrupted, hoping to stave off an international incident resulting from two scientists mauling each other over ancient hair care. “I’m sure that both of you are correct in your assertions. Some women probably did, and others didn’t.”
The men grumbled at Violet’s compromise, undoubtedly preferring to carry on their argument. She suspected the two would end up good friends.
“Thank you again for the book, Monsieur Mariette,” she said. “I shall always treasure it.”
Lepsius frowned. “You gave her a gift? Wait a moment.” He went to the cartouche seller and returned shortly, handing Violet a small packet made of felt. Inside was a gold amulet in the shape of an oval with some hieroglyphics inside.
“This is very generous, Herr Lepsius, but I do not understand it,” she said.
He grinned broadly. “Zis is a cartouche bearing the name of Rameses III, the pharaoh spoken of in the tale of the treasure thief. Since it was my telling of that tale that inspired you to solve the murders, it only makes sense that you should have zis to remind you of your time in Egypt . . . and me.”
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