The Golden One by Elizabeth Peters

Author:Elizabeth Peters
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780061798399
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2011-09-24T17:23:01+00:00

Yusuf lived only long enough to take the hand of his daughter (placed in his by me) and murmur a few unintelligible words. A sentimentalist might say he had died of a broken heart. In scientific terms he had succumbed to the same heart ailment from which Abdullah had suffered in his last years. We left Ramses to stand guard over Jamil, and Emerson carried Yusuf’s wasted body back to his house. I looked back as we walked away. The lovely shape of Abdullah’s tomb was outlined by moonlight and shadow. In the deeper shadows of the doorway, nothing moved.

There was not much we could do for the afflicted family. Indeed, the angry looks directed at us by some of its members indicated that our best course was to leave them alone.

The whole ghastly business had taken far less time than I had realized—less than half an hour from start to finish—but explanations and changes of clothing delayed the longed-for moment when we could settle down on the veranda.

Ramses was the last to join us. Though the tightness of his mouth betrayed his distress, he was his usual phlegmatic self when he replied to our questions. “I left him with his cousins. They made it clear I was not wanted. Where is Sennia?”

“I sent her to bed,” I replied, as Emerson pressed a glass of whiskey into his son’s hand. “She made quite a fuss, and Horus tried to bite me.”

“Jumana?” was Ramses’s next question.

“She finally broke down, but not until Fatima took her in a motherly embrace. Perhaps,” I mused, “I emphasized too strongly the virtue of a stiff upper lip.”

“What a pity,” Nefret said softly. “The family was once so strong and proud and united.”

“The greater pity,” said Ramses, “is Jamil. If he had turned his unique talent to archaeology he might have been happy and successful. How does one account for such men?”

“Don’t start a philosophical discussion,” Emerson growled. “I cannot account for them and neither can your mother, though she will try if you give her half a chance. The family will get over this in time, and so will Jumana. Time heals . . .” Realizing he had been on the verge of committing an aphorism, he caught himself and went on, “Was he trying to tell us, at the end, where the tomb is located, or was he still taunting us? ‘In the hand of the god!’ ”

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