Read Online The Serpent on the Crown by Elizabeth Peters - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Peters
Ads: Link
parents returned from Selim’s, the former were in their usual state of grubbiness, overindulgence, and crankiness. Their nursery maid, Elia, was accustomed to dealing with this; she hustled them off to baths and bed. It was a rare pleasure to settle down with only my son and daughter. Compared with my husband and grandchildren, they are restful company. Twilight deepened; the stars began to shine over Luxor; and Ramses served the whiskey.
“Who gave Wasim permission to have that weapon?” Ramses asked somewhat critically. “He’ll shoot someone; his eyesight is so bad.”
“The gun isn’t loaded.”
“Is that what he told you?” Ramses took a refreshing sip of whiskey. An afternoon with his children often left him somewhat on edge. “Oh, well, we can only hope for the best. Maybe he’ll shoot a journalist.”
“How do you know the press has been informed of our so-called treasure trove?”
“If they don’t know about it they must be deaf, dumb, and blind. Mrs. Petherick has done her best to spread the word. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn she gave interviews to the newspapers before she left England. All the local people have heard of our acquisition and have exaggerated its value as they are inclined to do. Daoud and Selim knew all about it, and about our encounter with the Pethericks.”
He glanced at Fatima, who was moving quietly about lighting the lamps. She ducked her head and murmured something about Kareem.
“It’s all right, Fatima,” Ramses said. “The story is like an amoeba, oozing out in all directions.” He glanced out the screened windows toward the little shelter, where the yellow glow of a candle betokened the presence of our guard. “That was a good idea of Fatima’s. In fact, I believe I will station another fellow at the back of the house.”
“You don’t really believe anyone will try to break in, do you?” I asked.
“I don’t believe in taking chances, Mother.”
FROM MANUSCRIPT H
----
Ramses couldn’t have said why he was so uneasy. His mother was the one who specialized in premonitions, and for once she didn’t seem to anticipate trouble. She went calmly off to bed at her usual hour, leaving Fatima to close up the house. Ramses made the rounds with her, checking doors and windows and gates, going through the same procedure with Nefret’s and his house. The children’s windows were barred, not only to keep his peripatetic offspring in, but to keep others out. They had had an unpleasant experience a few years earlier with someone who had terrorized Carla by whispering at the window. If a thief was after the statuette, there was one sure way of getting it. Emerson wouldn’t have bargained with an abductor who held one of the adults, but he would instantly have exchanged the statuette and everything else he owned for either of the twins.
As he did almost every night, Ramses stood in the doorway of their room looking at the small quiet bodies. David John slept flat on his back, arms and legs thrown out, head thrown back. Carla was a restless sleeper, twisting and turning, sometimes ending up with her head at the foot of her bed and her little bottom bared by the twisted folds of her nightgown. Now she lay curled up like a kitten, the covers clear up to her button of a nose. They looked so helpless. Love, and terror at the thought of anything happening to them, stabbed through him like a knife.
Nefret was already in bed, golden hair spread enticingly across the pillow. She opened half-closed eyes when he came in. “You were a long time,” she murmured.
“I was watching the children. Carla is almost as active when she sleeps as when she’s awake.”
“I expect you were too when you were her age.” She smiled sleepily. “Are you coming to bed?”
It was a tempting suggestion, but that unconquered restlessness made him shake his head. “Soon. I feel like a walk.”
The stars were bright, the moon a sliver of silver. What he really wanted to do was
“Who gave Wasim permission to have that weapon?” Ramses asked somewhat critically. “He’ll shoot someone; his eyesight is so bad.”
“The gun isn’t loaded.”
“Is that what he told you?” Ramses took a refreshing sip of whiskey. An afternoon with his children often left him somewhat on edge. “Oh, well, we can only hope for the best. Maybe he’ll shoot a journalist.”
“How do you know the press has been informed of our so-called treasure trove?”
“If they don’t know about it they must be deaf, dumb, and blind. Mrs. Petherick has done her best to spread the word. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn she gave interviews to the newspapers before she left England. All the local people have heard of our acquisition and have exaggerated its value as they are inclined to do. Daoud and Selim knew all about it, and about our encounter with the Pethericks.”
He glanced at Fatima, who was moving quietly about lighting the lamps. She ducked her head and murmured something about Kareem.
“It’s all right, Fatima,” Ramses said. “The story is like an amoeba, oozing out in all directions.” He glanced out the screened windows toward the little shelter, where the yellow glow of a candle betokened the presence of our guard. “That was a good idea of Fatima’s. In fact, I believe I will station another fellow at the back of the house.”
“You don’t really believe anyone will try to break in, do you?” I asked.
“I don’t believe in taking chances, Mother.”
FROM MANUSCRIPT H
----
Ramses couldn’t have said why he was so uneasy. His mother was the one who specialized in premonitions, and for once she didn’t seem to anticipate trouble. She went calmly off to bed at her usual hour, leaving Fatima to close up the house. Ramses made the rounds with her, checking doors and windows and gates, going through the same procedure with Nefret’s and his house. The children’s windows were barred, not only to keep his peripatetic offspring in, but to keep others out. They had had an unpleasant experience a few years earlier with someone who had terrorized Carla by whispering at the window. If a thief was after the statuette, there was one sure way of getting it. Emerson wouldn’t have bargained with an abductor who held one of the adults, but he would instantly have exchanged the statuette and everything else he owned for either of the twins.
As he did almost every night, Ramses stood in the doorway of their room looking at the small quiet bodies. David John slept flat on his back, arms and legs thrown out, head thrown back. Carla was a restless sleeper, twisting and turning, sometimes ending up with her head at the foot of her bed and her little bottom bared by the twisted folds of her nightgown. Now she lay curled up like a kitten, the covers clear up to her button of a nose. They looked so helpless. Love, and terror at the thought of anything happening to them, stabbed through him like a knife.
Nefret was already in bed, golden hair spread enticingly across the pillow. She opened half-closed eyes when he came in. “You were a long time,” she murmured.
“I was watching the children. Carla is almost as active when she sleeps as when she’s awake.”
“I expect you were too when you were her age.” She smiled sleepily. “Are you coming to bed?”
It was a tempting suggestion, but that unconquered restlessness made him shake his head. “Soon. I feel like a walk.”
The stars were bright, the moon a sliver of silver. What he really wanted to do was
Similar Books
