Read Online Children of the Storm by Elizabeth Peters - Free Book Online Page B

Kadija had stopped by, too. Ramses knew he wouldn’t see much of Nefret for the rest of the afternoon; she and Kadija were close friends, and Kadija, a woman of majestic proportions and the owner of a famous green ointment whose recipe she had inherited from her Nubian foremothers, was still shy of him and his father. She and Nefret went off with Selim’s wives and the children, leaving the men to smoke and drink coffee under the shady arcade of the courtyard.
    Daoud planted his huge hands on his large knees and beamed at Ramses. His beard was grizzled now, but his strength was unimpaired. It was equaled only by his large heart. “Is there news?” he asked hopefully.
    There was plenty of news. Ordinarily Ramses would have taken Selim into his confidence, but although he was extremely fond of Daoud, he was well aware of the latter’s weakness for gossip. “Nothing you don’t know,” he said. “We go to Cairo on the Sunday, and will bring the family back with us a few days later.”
    “Sooner than later,” said Daoud firmly. “It has been too long since they have been here, and to think I have never set eyes on the namesake and great-grandson of my honored uncle Abdullah!”
    “They call him Dolly,” Ramses said. “They plan to stay the entire season, so you will see a great deal of him.”
    Selim’s fine dark eyes had moved from speaker to speaker. Now he cleared his throat. “This time it is Daoud who has news to tell. He has found out why Hassan left the Father of Curses.”
    Daoud looked reproachful. He enjoyed his reputation as the family’s official storyteller, and he would have worked up to the disclosure with proper rhetoric. However, he rallied promptly. “It is surprising news, Ramses. You would never have imagined it. Even I, when he told me, was struck dumb with amazement. My eyes opened wide and my voice failed me.”
    “But not for long,” said Selim, grinning. He sobered almost at once; Ramses had the impression that something was troubling him. “So, Daoud, do not draw the tale out. Tell Ramses what Hassan said.”
    “I will show him,” Daoud declared, rising ponderously to his feet. “Come, Ramses. It is not far.”
    Ramses waved Selim’s protest aside. Daoud had been deprived of his great announcement; he was entitled to prolong the suspense. “Where?” he asked, rising in his turn.
    “Follow me.” Selim went to the door of the house and called out, raising his voice to be heard over the bedlam within. “We are going out. We will come back soon.”
    “So you have to report to the ladies, do you?” Ramses asked as they followed Daoud along the street, if it could be called that. The village had grown like Topsy, without any coherent plan, and the paths wound around and sometimes through modern houses and ancient tombs. “And I hear from Daoud that you are contemplating taking a third wife. Remember the advice I passed on to you last year. Three women are six times as much trouble as two.”
    Selim smiled and stroked his beard. “I tell them what I choose and I do as I like.”
    “Of course. And the third wife?”
    “They cannot agree whether I should do it.”
    He glanced at Ramses’s carefully controlled face and burst into a hearty laugh. “So. Am I—what is the word?—henpecked?”
    “Only wise,” Ramses said, joining in his laughter. “Your English gets better all the time, Selim. I say, is Daoud offended by our levity? Even his back looks hurt. What’s this all about?”
    “Perhaps it is better that you see,” Selim admitted.
    Their destination was the modern cemetery near the village. Like the ancient burial grounds, it was located in the desert, not in the green strip of irrigation bordering the river. It was the hottest time of the day; the barren ground baked in the sun’s rays. For the most part the graves were small and humble, marked only by simple pillars or low benchlike tombstones. The most impressive monument was the tomb they had had built for