Read Online The Serpent on the Crown by Elizabeth Peters - Free Book Online Page B

sit under their windows all night, guarding the three who were dearest to him, not trusting anyone else to do it. That was foolish, and he knew it. He was a light sleeper; if anyone came near either window he would hear, especially in his present state of nerves. Daoud’s son, Ali Yussuf, was stationed in the courtyard of the main house—almost certainly an unnecessary precaution, since several servants slept in the house, and his mother was an army unto herself.
    Pacing restlessly up and down, his eyes on the darkened window of the room where his wife slept and the faint glow of the night-light from that of the twins, he tried to analyze his malaise. Had something happened to alert what his mother poetically called “the sleeping sentry”—part of the unconscious mind that took note of suspicious circumstances? God knew there had been a number of weird happenings in the past two days, and a number of people had expressed interest in their prize, but he couldn’t believe any of them would stoop to crime to retrieve it. Except possibly for Adrian Petherick, in one of his fits. But I have his gun, Ramses thought. It would be easy for him to acquire another, but surely his sister will keep an eye on him after what he did. The men of Gurneh were peaceful souls, and the house of the Father of Curses was protected by that gentleman’s formidable reputation.
    We need a dog, Ramses thought. They’d had several—strays taken in by Nefret along with other abandoned or injured beasts and birds. One of his mother’s favored psychologists would probably have said Nefret had been moved by a combination of maternal instinct and frustrated medical talents. The twins and her clinic on the West Bank kept her fully occupied now, but…
    We’ll get a dog, Ramses decided. I’ll see about it tomorrow.
    He was about to go back inside when a sound made him stiffen and turn. High-pitched, sharp, it might have been the cry of a bird or animal, but he knew it wasn’t. He broke into a run, heading for the back of the main house.
    The courtyard gate was closed and there was no sign of anyone outside, but he heard his mother’s voice, raised over Ali Yussuf’s protests.
    “You aren’t seriously hurt. Stop complaining and tell me what happened!”
    Ramses didn’t waste time pounding on the gate. He pulled himself to the top of the wall and dropped down inside. His mother, modestly enveloped in yards of dressing gown, had Ali Yussuf’s head firmly between her hands. She glanced at Ramses.
    “Just a bump on the head,” she said, sounding as brisk and alert as if she hadn’t just been shocked out of sleep.
    Ali Yussuf pulled away from her and groaned theatrically. “I have failed.”
    “Not if you kept someone from entering the house,” Ramses said, patting the disconsolate youth on the back. “Tell us what happened.”
    Ali Yussuf was not about to admit falling into a doze, but he must have done, since he had been unaware of an intruder until he heard the scrape of falling plaster and saw the figure perched atop the wall.
    “Black, all black, like a shadow,” Ali Yussuf said. “But I was not afraid, Brother of Demons…Not much afraid. When it jumped down from the wall I threw myself at it and caught hold of it. I called out—not in fear, no, in warning, as you told me…”
    “And then it hit you?” Ramses asked. “The black shadow?”
    His mother patted the boy’s drooping head. “Don’t be rude, Ramses. He did his best. His cry for help—er—of warning wakened me, but by the time I had lit a lamp and got to my window I caught only a glimpse of a form going back over the wall.”
    “I suppose you had your parasol,” Ramses said.
    “Naturally. Goodness, you are in a snappish mood tonight. And before you wax sarcastic again, I will admit I saw only a pair of trousered legs, and that for a split second.”
    “Black?”
    “No,” said his mother composedly. She bent over, lifted something from the ground and held it