13
My place of hiding is opened, my place of hiding is revealed.
There is a trade in all things old. People come from far away and buy anything and everything from the days of the tombs. The bottle travels in a box of shards and beads and amulets across the waters of the Nile and is taken to a merchant in Luxor. Coins change hands.
For months the box lies untouched in a store room; when it is unpacked the merchant picks out the bottle at once. He had not noticed it before and now he feels a catch of excitement in his throat. Early New Kingdom glass is rare. He brings it to his work table and picks up his magnifying glass.
The stopper is wedged in tightly and sealed. He finds a knife to uncork it, hesitates and changes his mind. Instead he sends a message to a friend. His house has grown cold; the air flickers with desert lightning and an unearthly shimmer runs across the shelves and over the table.
The newcomer, head and shoulders wrapped in a white shawl, touches breast, mouth and forehead in greeting and comes forward to the table. He is venerable and learned and has studied the magical arts. He stands in silence looking down at the small glass container.
The silence lengthens. Outside, the sun moves across the sky and gains entrance at the latticed windows, throwing fretted shadows on the floor.
The man looks up, his face white.
‘There is power in this sacred vial. Power beyond measure. And it is guarded by priests of old who have never left it.’ He shakes his head. ‘Bring me paper and ink that I may write their wishes down. Those who have touched this object with sacrilegious hands have paid the price with their life’s blood.’
Anna was sitting on the bed in her cabin when Serena knocked and pushed open the door. ‘You OK?’
Anna nodded. The bottle was lying beside her on the covers.
‘I’ve spoken to Omar.’ Serena sat down and picking it up she turned it gently over and over in her hands. ‘He was a bit taken aback by your outburst just now and I sort of tried to explain.’ She shrugged. ‘He doesn’t know anything about Toby being arrested. He was astonished when I told him. He spoke to the captain immediately because he had been in charge of the boat while Omar was away and he said no one had come asking for Toby. And Toby’s passport is still in the safe.’
‘What does that mean?’
Serena raised an eyebrow. ‘It means there’s a strong possibility Andy’s lying, as I suspected.’ She held out the bottle. ‘It’s strange that Louisa kept this after Hassan died. I’d have thought she’d want to get rid of it.’
Anna shook her head. She picked up the bottle and stroked it gently with her little finger. ‘It’s so small and it’s brought so much unhappiness. She kept it, I suppose because Hassan gave it to her. I wonder if she saw Carstairs again?’
Serena gestured towards Anna’s bag. ‘I think I’m as hooked on this story as you are. Haven’t we got time to read a little before our meal?’ she asked hopefully. ‘And it would take your mind off Toby …’
Sir John knocked on Louisa’s cabin door and pushed it open. ‘How are you feeling, my dear?’ She was lying on the divan, wrapped in a silk bed-robe. Her head was aching and her skin as hot as fire. ‘Can we not persuade you to eat a little? Mohammed is concocting more and more wonderful titbits for you.’ He was looking at the untouched plate beside her.
She turned towards him and forced a tired smile. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not hungry.’
‘No. Well, I’ll tell him to keep trying.’ He nodded. ‘A party of Nubians came to the boat this morning, Louisa. They brought your paints; the things which were left in the cave.’ He looked down at his feet suddenly. ‘They are very honest, these people. I rewarded them well.’ He glanced back at her. ‘I thought you’d want your things.’ He went to the door and fumbled outside for a moment, turning back with her woven bag. ‘Shall I leave it here?’ He waited for an indication of what she wanted. When she gave no sign, he shrugged and placed the bag against the wall, under the small table.
Some time later he left, closing the door quietly behind him. When he returned it was dark. They had moored above the cataract near Philae. Outside the river was bright with moonlight.
‘Louisa, Lord Carstairs is in the saloon. I understand he came up to Aswan on the steamer. Are you well enough to receive him?’
She sat up slowly, pushing her hair out of her eyes. ‘He’s here? On this boat? I thought you had forbidden him to set foot on it!’
Sir John shrugged uncomfortably. ‘He heard what happened. He wants to see you.’
For a moment she sat still, as if gathering her strength, then she pulled herself to her feet. ‘I’ll see him in the saloon.’
‘Shall I call Treece to help you dress, my dear?’
‘No, there’s no need.’ She pushed past him. ‘What I have to say to Roger Carstairs requires no formal dressing.’
He was sitting in the saloon sipping sherbet with Augusta when Louisa burst in. They both turned to face her and she saw Carstairs’ eyes widen. In her deep-blue robe with her hair wild, her face white and tear-stained she must have looked strange indeed.
‘Please leave us, Augusta!’ Her request was so peremptory Augusta rose to her feet without comment and disappeared out on deck. The saloon was silent.
Louisa stood in front of Carstairs, her eyes fixed on his face. ‘So, my lord, are you content?’
He eyed her coldly. ‘What happened is unfortunate. You had the means to prevent it.’
‘So it was my fault?’ Her voice was very quiet.
‘Indeed it was.’ He folded his arms. ‘I do not permit people to cross me, madam. And now to prevent further tragedy I suggest you give me the sacred vial.’
‘Never!’ Her eyes blazed. ‘You will never have it. All the gods of Egypt saw what you did, Roger Carstairs, and they revile you for it. The priest who guards that bottle, the priest of Isis despises you!’ Her voice had risen at last to a wail.
Carstairs sneered. He had not stepped back an inch. ‘Isis is no goddess of love. You misjudge her, my dear Louisa. She is goddess of magic and her servant, my servant, is the cobra.’ He smiled. ‘Where is the bottle?’
‘I no longer have it. It is lost in the cave where Hassan died and there it will stay, buried in the sand and guarded by your snake!’ She laughed suddenly, a quiet, bitter sound which gave him pause as nothing she had said before had done. ‘If you search for it, I hope the snake of Isis kills you with all the certainty of purpose with which it killed Hassan!’
He unfolded his arms and gave a quick bow. ‘It had not occurred to me that you would leave it at Abu Simbel. I trust for your sake that it is safe!’
He made for the door but she was standing in his way. ‘Don’t ever set foot on this boat again. Not ever. The Forresters support me in this; and don’t show your face anywhere decent people go. I shall spread word of your evil. In Luxor. In Cairo. In Alexandria. In Paris. In London. I shall make sure that the name of Carstairs is reviled throughout the world!’
For a moment he frowned, taken aback by the force of her words, then he smiled. ‘No one will believe you.’
‘Oh, they will. I’ll make sure of it.’ She turned and moved away from him, and stood still, her back to him. For a moment he hesitated, then she heard him leave the saloon, ducking out on deck into the sunshine. In the silence that followed she heard Augusta’s voice carrying clearly across the deck. She had obviously heard every word Louisa had said. ‘Please don’t come back, my lord. Louisa is right. You are no longer welcome in decent society!’
He did not reply. She walked to the door of the saloon and she was in time to see him jumping down into the sandal in which one of his Nubian servants had rowed him to the Ibis. His own boat was moored on the far side of the river near the Fieldings’. She gave a wry smile. There was one family who would still make him welcome.
She walked out into the sunshine aware of the sympathetic glances from the reis and the other members of the crew. Augusta was standing looking across the rive
r at the departing back of their visitor. ‘Loathsome man!’ she said.
Louisa nodded. She was grateful to Augusta for understanding; for at last giving her the benefit of the doubt. The story she had told her was after all beyond all normal credibility.
‘Sir John will support us in forbidding him aboard the boat,’ Augusta said softly.
‘Thank you.’
Augusta glanced at her. ‘He has gone across to see David Fielding. I have no doubt he will let our feelings be known.’
‘They like him.’
‘They like his title, my dear. When they poke the toes of their shoes beneath it and find the loathsome creature who hides there I feel sure they will agree with us.’ She screwed up her eyes against the glare. ‘Look! He’s changed his mind; he’s going directly to his own boat and they are already making sail.’
Louisa smiled. ‘He is going back to scrabble in the sands at Abu Simbel, to look for the scent bottle which I left there.’
Augusta raised an eyebrow. ‘Ridiculous man! He really believes in all this magic, doesn’t he!’
‘Oh yes.’ Louisa nodded sadly. ‘He really believes in it.’
She turned away and walked slowly back towards her cabin. Picking up her hairbrush she was brushing out her long tangled hair when her eye fell on the woven bag lying on the floor under the table where Sir John had left it. She paused, and frowning she put down her brush. Stooping, she picked up the bag and tipped it up over the bed, taking the corners and shaking it so that a cascade of pencils and sketchpads fell onto the bedcovers. There was her small painbox, the water pot and water bottle, though why she had taken them with her to a spot where the paints dried on the tip of her brush before she could bring it to the paper she wasn’t sure. There was a packet of charcoal strips for sketching, wrapped in tissue, an indiarubber, a small knife for sharpening her pencils and, under it all, the silk-wrapped bundle tied with ribbon which was the scent bottle of the priests. She picked it up and held it in her hands for a few long moments, then quietly she began to cry.
‘So, that’s how it came back.’ Serena shook her head. ‘And Carstairs had already sailed. He was reviled, of course. His name is still known for his carryings on. I don’t think he ever went back to England.’
‘And he never got the sacred bottle.’ Anna was staring at it. ‘I think I should throw it into the Nile.’
Serena grimaced. ‘No! No, don’t do that. I want to do another ritual. To talk to the priests.’ She stood up and went to stand at the window, staring out across the river. ‘The bottle belonged to them, Anna. Or at least to one of them. Until this is all resolved they can’t rest. We have to find out what they want us to do. Please, let me have one more go.’
‘And the snake?’
‘The snake will not harm us.’
‘How do you know? How do we know Carstairs wasn’t so furious he gave it orders to kill anyone who went near it?’
‘We don’t. But on the evidence we’ve got it looks as though he didn’t. After all, no one else has died. Can we do it, Anna? After lunch, while people are having a siesta. Can we call up the priests again? I want to talk to Anhotep.’
Anna’s mouth fell open. ‘I thought we were going to wait until tonight, on Philae.’ She shivered.
Serena nodded. ‘I was, but there is no reason to wait. Please, Anna. It almost worked last time. And I have a feeling it will now.’ She nodded excitedly. ‘But first we must find out about Charley. Can we ask Omar to see what’s happened to her?’
Omar called the hotel on his mobile phone. He listened and nodded, spoke rapidly and at last cut the connection. ‘She is coming back to the boat. They say she is rested and fine and they are putting her in a taxi.’ He glanced at them. ‘They said the bill has been paid by Toby Hayward, and he was there this afternoon.’
‘He was there?’ Anna looked at him, stunned. ‘He was at the Old Cataract Hotel?’
Omar nodded.
‘And he saw Charley?’
‘He spoke to her and settled all her expenses.’
‘Then where is he?’
Omar shrugged.
Two minutes later Anna and Serena were outside Toby’s cabin. Anna knocked. There was no answer so she reached for the handle. The door swung open and they peered in. The cabin looked totally normal, if tidier than when Anna had last seen it. The pictures, the paints were neatly organised, the luggage still there.
Serena stepped into the cabin behind her. ‘He hasn’t moved out then.’
‘Why should he have? Where would he have gone? We were planning to come back together.’ Anna bit her lip miserably. ‘If he was at the hotel, then he can’t have been under arrest.’ She stared round her at the dressing table, the neatly made bed, the rails in the bathroom with their fresh white towels. ‘Omar said his passport was still here,’ she said wistfully, sitting down on the bed.
‘Perhaps Charley will know where he is,’ Serena suggested.
There was a sound outside in the corridor and they both looked up as Andy appeared at the open door. He stared round. ‘Lunchtime, ladies.’
‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard where Toby is, have you?’ Anna tried to restrain the hostility she could feel welling up inside her.
He shook his head. ‘Presumably the police still have him.’
‘He’s not under arrest, Andy, he is in Aswan. Or at least he was a little while ago.’
Andy looked taken aback for a moment, then he rapidly recovered. He shifted from one foot to another. ‘It’s all beyond me. Why don’t we have lunch and stop fussing about Toby Hayward?’ He walked off briskly towards the dining room.
The meal was subdued and Ibrahim and Ali, as though sensing everyone’s exhaustion after their long drive through the desert served it with the minimum of delay. Only some forty minutes later Anna and Serena, after surreptitiously making sure that Andy had retired with much yawning and stretching to his own cabin, made their way to Anna’s on the deck above.
The preparations were much quicker this time. Anna pinned the shawl over the window shutters whilst Serena laid out her altar. The candles, incense, statuette were all put in place, then Anna reached for the scent bottle, unwrapped it, and laid it reverently next to Serena’s sistrum.
‘Ready?’ she breathed. Her hands were shaking.
Serena nodded. She reached into her bag for a box of matches and lit first the small incense cone and then the candles.
Behind her Anna retreated once more to the bed and drawing her legs up under her sat as far away from Serena as she could in the cramped space of the small cabin, watching breathlessly as Serena glanced at her. ‘Whatever happens, don’t try to interfere. Don’t try to stop it and don’t wake me if I go into a trance. It could be dangerous for me. Just keep yourself safe and watch.’
As the first low chanting began to fill the room, rising and falling to the accompaniment of the rattle of the sistrum Anna felt the atmosphere tighten perceptibly. Her eyes were fixed on the bottle. A pale wavering light was falling on it from the candles, interlaced in flickering, intersecting arcs. From the incense a spiral of smoke rose towards the ceiling, curling lazily upwards and dispersing in the gloom. The bottle sat before the statue of Isis, its bright colours muted and iridescent in the candlelight. As the reflection of the flame played on the glass it looked as though whatever was inside the bottle moved.
Anna clenched her fists. She could feel perspiration running down her temples and between her breasts. Serena’s voice was growing stronger, either she was less self-conscious now or she had forgotten Anna completely and had lost herself in the phrases of her invocation. When she stopped the cabin seemed to echo for a moment with the words of power then the candleflames began to stream sideways as though in a strong draught. Anna swallowed. She brought her hand to her breast and fumbling for the amulet, clutched it tightly between her fingers.
She could see him – the tall figure – so transparent he was barely more than a shimmer in the air near the window.
/> Serena flung back her head and rattled the sistrum in front of her. ‘Come! Oh Anhotep, servant of Isis, come! Show yourself before me and before this vial of sacred tears!’
He was easier to see now, his features more distinct, the outline of his shape clear in the shadows of the candlelight.
Serena, her hands on the altar, dropped to her knees. Her head back, her eyes closed she gave the sistrum a final rattle and laid it down. Anhotep was suddenly closer to her. He was towering over her. His body, a transparent shadow, was so close he was touching her, and slowly as she stood up their two outlined shapes seemed to coalesce and become one.
She convulsed forward shaking, then slowly she straightened again and opened her eyes. ‘Greetings.’ Her voice was completely unlike anything Anna had heard before. Deep and bell-like it contained the echoes of three thousand desert suns. ‘I am Anhotep, servant of the servants of the gods. I come to take possession of that which is mine.’
Anna’s mouth had gone dry. Terrified, she stared at the figure before her as slowly she realised that she was alone in the room with him. The body that was Serena’s was somehow inert, vacant. It was as though Serena herself had stood aside and lent him the flesh, the muscles, the organs he needed to function once more on the earth.
She cleared her throat nervously and was alarmed to see that the figure standing before the altar had clearly heard her. The face turned towards hers.
‘Who approaches the altar of the goddess?’ The words seemed to fill the air around her.
‘I am Anna.’ She forced herself to speak out loud. ‘It is I who brought the sacred vial back to Egypt. I … we need to know what you want done with it?’