Ella scrambled to her feet. She grabbed the camel’s bridle, unmindful of his teeth, and jerked his head around to face her. Was he about to keel over like the horse did? In the distance, she could see the Bedouins riding steadily closer. She flung the reins over the camel’s neck and clambered up on his back. She yelled at him while she banged on his rump with the stick.
The camel remained rooted to the ground.
They were going to kill her. She looked around to see if there was any way out of this horror show. In spite of the dry heat, she felt her hands grow instantly clammy. She knew she was blinking rapidly as she scanned the horizon. And her breath was coming in short, ragged bursts. There was nothing but desert as far as she could see. She couldn’t just give up. She couldn’t just let them take her. Let them kill her? Kill the little one? She walloped the camel on the hind end and was surprised when he grunted and pitched her backward again as he leveraged his feet under him to rise. She twisted around to see Ammon’s group much closer now.
Dear God, why? Why couldn’t they just let her go? Why are they doing this?
When her camel finally came fully onto all four legs, Ella was facing in the direction of Ammon’s group. She saw the Bedouins had stopped about a hundred yards away. She risked the waste of a split second before turning away to see why and was astounded to watch them hurriedly dismount. The four men in Ammon’s band appeared to be tying rags over their horse’s faces.
Are they afraid I’ll be able to identify the horses? Ella thought in bewilderment. Before she turned her camel eastward once more, she watched the men gather together in a huddle, holding their horses with their noses pointed down and their faces covered. Ammon—she was sure it was him—seemed to give her one last look before diving into the middle of the pack. Deciding not to waste any more time trying to figure out their strange behavior, Ella jerked her camel’s head in the direction of the river. As the camel turned Ella saw that the sky and the ground and everything in between had vanished in a swirling wall of beige. Disoriented and confused, she rubbed her eyes to try to adjust her eyesight. Just then, wind cut into her face with a shower of sand that filled her nose and her mouth.
It was a sandstorm. She shut her eyes and tried to spit out the sand but more filled her mouth and began to scrape and blister her face. She dropped the stick and the reins and fumbled for her hijab to pull it completely over her face. When she did, she was totally blind and still she felt the wind and sand mercilessly rake her. But she could breathe without taking in sand through her nose.
She felt for the reins and gathered them up. Unlike with a horse, it was impossible to bury her face in the camel’s neck, so she hunched down on him as far as she could to withstand the worst of the onslaught of blowing sand.
Suddenly, and to her complete astonishment, she could feel the camel begin to walk. She clung to his back, gripping with her hands, her thighs and her heels. She bent down as close to the animal’s hump as possible. Ella didn’t know if she was riding toward or away from Ammon and his men. She only knew she was moving and, at least for now, alive.
The camel’s rocking horse gait lulled Ella in spite of the sandstorm’s howl and she found herself several times having to catch herself from dozing off and falling. She had no idea how long she rode like that. It felt like hours. At the point where she knew she couldn’t stay upright any longer, the camel stopped and sank to his knees. The storm still swirled around her but it had lost its force. She knew that if she dismounted and he ran away, she would die. Yet she craved sleep. She slid off him and her knees felt the sand beneath them. She leaned against him, still holding the reins and vaguely aware that she was in easy striking distance of his teeth.
She realized she didn’t care. Peeling a corner of her scarf away from her face, she could see patches of blue showing the wall of whirling sand. She had ridden all night. The camel’s thick eyelashes were coated with sand but his eyes were clear as he regarded her. She had chosen well. If she’d taken one of the horses, she would have died in the storm.
Is that what happened to Ammon and his crew? She looked in every direction but could see nothing but swirling sand and undulating dunes. Was she still anywhere near the river? They had walked for hours—at least five by Ella’s reckoning. Was she five hours closer or further away? As the wind died down and the sun reasserted itself, Ella tucked herself against the camel for shade, praying for the animal’s tolerance. And slept.
When she woke up, the sun was setting and it was cold. The camel seemed ready to move again. Ella took a moment to evaluate her situation. She was parched. Her face and tongue felt swollen. She had slept with the hijab pulled around her face. When she took it off, she could feel sand in her mouth, between her teeth, and in her nose. Her face was abraded even from just the short time it was exposed to the storm. She touched her stomach. Aside from hunger and exhaustion, she was fine.
Now’s when a canteen of water would be good. She stood next to the camel and surveyed her world. Sand everywhere. No hint of the river. No smell, no humidity. She patted the camel on the neck. He had saved her from both the storm and the Bedouins. And he was still alive. As she ran her hand down his neck, she noticed that there was a leather pouch tied to the bridle that she hadn’t noticed before. Praying there was something in it to eat, she untied the leather strings that bound it and sat down on the ground to open it up.
The thing inside was black and desiccated, like the apple head dolls people used to sell roadside in rural Georgia. When she realized what she was holding in her hand, she dropped it at her feet and stared at it in horror.
It was a mummified hand.
Why was it in the bag? What possible value could it have? Who would want the grisly thing? She wiped her own hand on her pants and was about to turn away when she saw something gleam from the wrist of the small hand. It was a slim bracelet. Ella picked up the hand again and detached it from the narrow copper band. There was etching on it. She held the bracelet up to the dying sun and then slipped it on her wrist. Kneeling, she buried the little mummy hand and took a moment to say a prayer for the woman or child to whom it had once belonged.
She lay down near the camel again and slept. She knew she should get up and start riding while the heat of day was gone but she was too tired and too thirsty to bring herself to remount. A part of her was pretty sure she was going the wrong way in any case.
When Rowan came to her this time, she didn’t have the energy to throw her arms around him or jump up and down. She was surprised to see him, of course. Glad, too. But so, so tired. Annoyingly, he didn’t seem to think she needed to rest. Which was unlike him. Usually Rowan was so thoughtful. And all the while he was talking, the most amazing golden light began to flicker just over his shoulder. Soon, she realized it wasn’t just flickering. It was beckoning her.
“I’m so tired, Rowan,” she said, watching the beautiful light. “Can’t we all be together here?”
“This isn’t a good place for us, darlin’,” Rowan said. “You need to get up and keep moving. It’s just a little bit further.”
She wondered how he could say it wasn’t a good place. As she looked around, she could see the prettiest little spring just bubbling and gurgling right next to him. And that light seemed to create the most beautiful halos around everything, making it all glow and vibrate with the sheer goodness of the light.
“I don’t think I can,” she said sleepily.
“I know you can, Ella. You have to. Do it for me and for the little Tater Tot you’ve got there.”
After that, he pretty much dissolved into the mist surrounding the palms that had sprung up. It occurred to Ella that if the trees weren’t real, then Rowan might not be either. But the conversation with him, real or not, had spoiled her joyous descent into the golden light. She forced herself to turn her head from it and when she did, darkness quickly engulfed her. She opened her eyes and could see it was still night. If she didn’t have the strength to get up now while it was still cool, she never would when it was beastly hot.
The hardest part was forcing herself to a sitting position on the cold sand. After that, she knew she would stand and put one foot in front of the other. She put her hand on her belly to give her the strength she needed and was amazed to feel the bulge. It had grown so! If someone were to see her now, they might actually guess she was pregnant.
Come on, Tater, she thought as she pushed herself to her feet and felt for the camel’s reins again. Let’s go find your daddy.
The Valley of the Kings
Rowan was dreaming of Ella most nights now. Sometimes it felt so real seeing her, talking with her that he awoke with absolute disbelief not to find her curled up next to him in bed. Disbelief and grinding disappointment. But the dreams did more than just tease and frustrate him. They gave him a lifeline to her. Down deep, he knew in his bones that Ella was still alive. The dreams gave him an overwhelming sense that she was. He clung to that feeling to fuel the strength he knew he needed to forge on day after day while waiting for his time to come.
The evening after Digby’s return, Rowan was careful not to ask Carter for any favors. He’d been pushing Carter pretty hard recently and it was time to ease up and let the long hours of friendship do their work.
Twice during their evening game, Digby walked by the chess table. The second time, he stopped near Carter’s elbow. After a few moments of silence, Carter abruptly said, “May I help you, Digby?” Digby turned on his heel and wheeled away from the table looking for all the world like a toddler who had just had his favorite toy taken from him. Rowan glanced up from the board and saw Carter shake his head in annoyance.
After Carter won the game, he and Rowan moved to the dinner table.
“You’re changing your gambit,” Rowan said, as he flapped out a starched linen napkin across his lap.
Carter smiled. “I wasn’t sure you’d notice,” he said.
“How could I not? You set me up from the start.”
“Ah, well.” Carter motioned for the servers to begin but Rowan could tell he was pleased.
“It won’t work a second time,” Rowan warned.
“You never know, Pierce,” Carter said, a smile on his lips
It was a smile, Rowan thought, of a man who had everything right with his world. He was doing work he loved that he was well-trained to do. Carter was doing work that had already given him a certain amount of international celebrity. It occurred to Rowan that he didn’t know anything about Carter’s personal life. He assumed there was a wife and children floating around somewhere back in England. If so, Carter didn’t seem to miss them much. At least not so that one would notice.
Digby strode up to the table and took his place between the two men. “Finished your game, I see. Who won, if I may be so bold as to inquire?”
“Mr. Carter took the day,” Rowan said, spooning a portion of the chicken tagine onto his plate.
“This time,” Carter said modestly. “Mr. Pierce is a worthy adversary. It is a fight to the death every time. Wouldn’t you say so, Pierce?”
“I would.”
“Never played chess, myself,” Digby said. “Always been more of a cricket man. Both Lord Carnarvon and myself were dedicated to the game in school.”
For several moments, the sounds of utensils clinking against china as the men filled their plates were the only sounds in the quiet of the evening.
“I was thinking of moving the dig site,” Carter said casually.
Rowan looked up from his plate. “Yes?” he said.
Carter shrugged. “It doesn’t seem like it could hurt anything. I have enough workers to dig where I presently am as well as…somewhere else.” He raised his eyebrows at Rowan.
Digby frowned. “Is that wise? Have you asked Lord Carnarvon?”
Carter didn’t bother looking at Digby. “This is my operation, Digby,” he said coldly.
“Yes, well, I should think you might give your patron his due, I dare say.” Digby looked at Rowan, clearly laying the blame for this new course of events at his feet.
“Tried the wine, Pierce?” Carter said. “Came in this afternoon on the boat from Cairo. Jolly good, I thought. From France, of course.”
Forcing himself to deflect the snub at least for now, Digby took several more bites in silence. When a second round of the wine had been poured, he made his move.
“I say, speaking of the boat from Cairo,” he said, “I wonder if anyone noticed my man Abdullah’s return this afternoon from Luxor?”
Carter looked up and frowned as he chewed. When no one answered, Digby pressed on. “I only mention it,” he said, “because it seems there was a message from Cairo waiting for me at the docks.” He reached for a bowl of boiled carrots on the table. “It was about Julia.”
Rowan stopped eating and looked at him.
“I must say, I’m not sure what would have happened if I hadn’t sent Abdullah to Luxor to acquire more cigars for me,” Digby said. “I suppose they would have eventually sent a man to the camp with the message. Seemed jolly inefficient, if you ask me, especially considering how important the message was. I say, Pierce, hand me the bread will you? There’s a good chap.”
Digby met Rowan’s eyes and was rewarded with the depth of frustration and hunger he saw there.
“What kind of message?” Rowan asked.
“What? Oh, yes, well, it turns out to be a very interesting one. Yes, very interesting, indeed.”
“Interesting in what way?” Carter asked, abruptly, clearly impatient with the game Digby was playing.
“Well, in that Julia was apparently seen yesterday in Cairo.”
“Just Julia?” Rowan asked. He put his fork down.
“Pardon? Oh, I see what you mean. Let me think. I don’t believe it referred to anyone but my own bride but I suppose the sighting, as it were, could have included the American woman as well.”
“Can I see the note?”
“Sorry. I burned it. Didn’t think it was important.”
Rowan stared at Digby. When he dragged his hardened gaze from Digby, he turned to look at Carter.
“Take your man Ra with you,” Carter said quietly. “And two horses. Anything else you need, let me know.”
* * * *
Later, when Ella’s mind had cleared and she had the luxury of endless days to remember and think about what happened next, she would always reflect that, when all was said and done, it had happened very quickly. So quickly, in fact, that it was all she could do to believe that it was real and not another dream.
When the cool of the night had evolved to the bright hell of another sunny day, Ella did not consciously make the decision to stop and rest until nightfall. In the grips of a trance spawned by hunger, thirst and a numbing, relentless fear, she simply sat immobilized on her camel as it moved forward. If it had stopped and sunk to its knees as before, she would have acquiesced and slid to the ground to sleep in its shadow as before. But the animal continued to move and she had not the strength nor the presence of mind to alter its movement. She sat transfixed and unsteady on its back under the full wrath of the sun.
How’s this, Rowan? she thought dully at one point when the sun and debilitating thirst powered down on her. Is this good for you? She didn’t know why she thought that. She must have dreamt of him again. She didn’t know why but she seemed to have developed a plan that was now directing all her actions and thoughts: She would simply go until she couldn’t go any more.
When the camel stopped on the rise, she stood with him and stared out at the vista, below, not recognizing the dramatic and wide bend of the olive-green river as it lay before her. It wasn’t until she watched four ibises in flight that she began to recognize that something was different. The birds flew high above her and then flitted away over the hill. She watched them with her mouth open. They were river birds. Shaking the fog from her head she forced herself to focus on the panoramic view of the Nile before her. It twisted and sparkled before her like a wild, living thing. She filled her lungs with the fishy, damp air of the river. On the banks, the desert had reluctantly given way to grass and reeds. The camel gave himself a shake and began to lumber down the rise toward the water.
He’s led me here, she thought and noticed that she no longer held the reins and probably hadn’t for hours. She leaned back to accommodate the downward movement of the camel descending the bank. I’ve made it. I’ve lived through it.
As she watched the river below, she wanted to laugh outloud, to shout with the pure joy of it. She craned her neck to confirm with her eyes what she thought she had heard. There were people down there. And God bless the whole wide world, a boat.
The next thing Ella felt were hands pulling her down from the camel. She found herself falling, falling—the very thing she had feared for so long—but the hands that caught her were gentle and the voices soothing. Their bodies blocked out the bright sunlight and she lay on the sand across the firm lap of a very large man who was pouring drops and then a steady stream of water past her blistered and parched lips. When she opened her eyes to look up into the face of her rescuer, he smiled down at her, showing a row of very white teeth.
“Effendim?” the man said. “Safe now.”
Ella briefly wondered what his religion would think about receiving a big wet kiss outside of marriage as a way of thanks and then she fainted in his arms.
When she woke up her vision had a soft focus on it as a result of the yards of mosquito netting around her bed. She had no idea how long she had slept. But she knew she had slept in a bed with soft linen sheets. She knew, although her back still ached and her lips were swollen, that she was no longer thirsty. A young Egyptian woman was sitting on a stool beside her bed, presumably waiting for Ella to wake up.
“Effendim hungry?” she said, and showed Ella the bowl and spoon she held in her hands.
Ella looked around the room and then nodded.
Before the girl could help Ella to a sitting position in her bed, Ella noticed one more thing.
They were moving.
“Where am I?” Ella croaked as the girl held a spoonful of beef bouillon to her lips. The girl smiled but seemed confused as if she didn’t understand English.
They were on a boat. A moving boat. That much became clear as soon as Ella was able to take better stock of her environment and the sensations.
She was heading back to Cairo! Thank God!
She took more of the soup from the girl. “Is this your boat?” Ella asked. “Was it your family who found me? Is my camel okay?”
The girl smiled again, looking even more unsure than before.
“Effendim?” she asked, holding the spoon up to Ella’s lips.
Ella drank the soup and felt very tired again. She decided it must be Tater wearing on her. She shook her head at the rest of the soup and sank back into her sheets and blankets.
“So sleepy,” she murmured. “Thank you so much for everything.” And then she fell asleep.
Rowan stood on the dock next to Ra and waited for the women and children to board the dahabiya first. He hadn’t even waited until morning but left Carter’s camp immediately, arriving in time to catch the last boat back to Cairo. He had sent a message on to Marvel at Shepheard’s and told her to expect him for breakfast. With any luck, he would arrive before the message.
The dock he stood on was on the west bank opposite Luxor. He noticed that Ra today did not have his usual bold manner. In the two weeks that Ra had been in disgrace, the young boy had worked diligently to regain Rowan’s trust. He wasn’t there yet, Rowan thought, but he was closing in on it. As Rowan waited to board, he stood with his hands on his hips and watched the boats on the river. Two were headed in the direction of Cairo. Another, expensively outfitted from the look of it, was sailing upstream. A woman lay bundled up on a deck chair, only a small patch of her face not covered. Must be wealthy Egyptians, Rowan thought as he watched the boat disappear around the bend toward Aswan.
Oh, it was another of those lovely dreams. Ella blinked and squinted against the bright sun. This was the first time she had had one that wasn’t in the middle of the night. She snuggled down under her blankets on the deck chair and shivered. The sun had gone down but the light had yet to follow suit. In Ella’s opinion, it was the perfect time of day in the desert. Still light enough to see but not blazing hot, and not yet cold. She knew this ideal combination of elements typically only lasted an hour or less.
She wasn’t sure how she had gotten into the deck chair, exactly, but she was grateful for the fresh air and the change of view. From her lounger, she was able to see the throng on the docks as people stood and milled about, loading their luggage, saying farewell to friends and preparing to embark on their dahabiyas down the Nile to Cairo.
She frowned through her stupor because all the other boats appeared to be pointing in the opposite direction that hers was sailing, so that didn’t make sense, did it? In any case, it would be so lovely if she could catch another glimpse of him, before she dozed off, real or not. Seeing Rowan in her dreams was always the best part of going to sleep.
She moved her head against the lounge chair pillow to get a better angle but it felt so heavy it fell heavily against its cushioned support. Her throat was dry but she felt too exhausted to even lift her hand to reach her teacup sitting on a small table to her right. What was the matter with her?
Oh! There. Her eyes found him and locked on and a slow smile curved around her lips. He stood on the dock, his hands resting on his hips, those slim hips attached to those incredibly long legs. He was surveying the bank and the other boats in the river. Such a Rowan thing to do, Ella thought as she watched him dreamily. Always on the lookout. Always ready. Goodbye, my love. Keep looking for the both of us. Until then, I’ll see you in my dreams. She closed her eyes then and slept.