Read Online Lady Emily's Exotic Journey by Lillian Marek - Free Book Online

annoyed?”
    â€œThey would not put it quite that way.”
    â€œNo, I don’t imagine they would. How many of them have even heard of Queen Victoria?”
    â€œNow there you might be surprised. Stories travel swiftly, and a woman ruling over a great nation—there is a tale worthy of the Scheherazade.”
    â€œUnbelievable, you mean?”
    â€œNo, no, because there are many to assure them that it is true. And that in turn impresses them. A woman who is so powerful that men obey her? The very thought inspires fear!”
    They laughed together, and Emily did feel reassured. So she told herself. But perhaps it was simply Lucien’s nearness that comforted her.
    She would think about that another time.

Five
    Emily wasn’t quite sure what sort of craft she had been expecting when David and Lucien announced that they had arranged transportation on the river for the five-day trip to Mosul. Nothing quite as large or elaborate as Papa’s steam yacht, of course. That was big enough to carry them from London to Constantinople. Still, in her imagination she had pictured something like the pleasure boats people took on the Thames.
    She had not expected this.
    Floating placidly on the river in front of her were half a dozen rafts. Not boats. Rafts. Rough wooden platforms sitting atop some sort of balloons. Three of them were piled high with their baggage and two had tents covering half their area.
    To make matters worse, Lucien was standing next to her, all too obviously enjoying her reaction.
    She couldn’t help it. The best she could manage was a question. “What are those?”
    â€œThey are called keleks ,” he said, as if that were an adequate explanation.
    â€œThey are keleks,” she repeated. “I seem to have asked the wrong question. What I should have asked is, where is the boat to take us to Mosul?” There had to be a boat, didn’t there? After all, Mama and Papa were standing there quite calmly, and so was Julia. Calmly, but not looking around for a boat.
    There wasn’t going to be a boat.
    Lucien hadn’t warned her because he had been looking forward to her confusion. That could not be allowed. She was not going to look like a timid little fool. She smiled with as much confidence as she could muster. “Rafts then. That should be exciting.”
    He threw his head back and laughed. “Well done, my lady.”
    She took a closer look at them. The tents were well supplied with cushions and a brazier. For heat, she supposed, but also perhaps for a bit of cooking. The braziers were adequate for making tea or coffee, she had learned, or even for cooking a meal of sorts. But what on earth were those balloon things the wooden platforms were sitting on? She asked.
    â€œInflated goat skins,” he replied promptly.
    She looked at him incredulously.
    â€œNo, no,” he protested, “I do not make a joke. They truly are goat skins. And indeed, it is a most practical arrangement. There are some two hundred of them for each raft, so if one of them is torn by a rock, the journey can continue with no problem. And to find another goat skin for a replacement is never a difficulty.”
    â€œInflated goat skins. How…clever.”
    â€œIt is a most ancient way to travel on the river. For thousands of years, rafts like this have been on the Tigris.”
    â€œThousands of years.” She tried to imbue her words with a semblance of enthusiasm. “Mama must be ecstatic.”
    He grinned. “So she says. And now your papa confers with our captain.”
    A tall cadaverous man with a bushy beard loomed over Papa, which was not easy to do. Papa was a tall man himself. The bearded man was wearing a sheepskin coat and one of those high hats wrapped around with cloths to make an enormous turban.
    Emily’s eyes widened. “He’s a Kurd.”
    â€œIndeed.” Lucien nodded in agreement.
    â€œBut you have been telling us how