The Last Camel Died at Noon Read Free Page B

all his time poring over obscure volumes on what little was known of the ancient inhabitants of the Sudan, and in long conversations with his brother Walter. Walter was a brilliant linguist who specialised in the ancient languages of Egypt. The prospect of obtaining texts in the obseure and as yet undeciphered Meroitic tongue raised his enthusiasm to fever pitch. Instead of trying to dissuade Emerson from his hazardous project he actually encouraged him.

    Walter had married my dear friend Evelyn, the granddaughter and heiress of the Duke of Chalfont. Theirs had been an exceedingly happy union, and it had been blessed with four -no, at the time of which I speak I believe the number was five -children. (One tended to lose track with Evelyn, as my husband once coarsely remarked, overlooking, as men are inclined to do, that his brother was at least equally responsible.) The young Emersons were staying with us on the evening of which I am about to speak. Greatly as I enjoyed the opportunity to spend time with my dearest friend, and a brother-in-law whom I truly esteem, and their five (unless it was six?) delightful offspring, I had an additional reason, this particular year, for encouraging the visit. I had not entirely abandoned hope of persuading Emerson that Ramses should be left in England when we set out on our hazardous journey. I knew I could count on Evelyn to add her gentle persuasion to mine. For reasons which eluded me, she doted on Ramses.

    It is impossible to give a proper impression of Ramses by describing his characteristics. One must observe him in action to understand how even the most admirable traits can be perverted or carried to such an extreme that they cease to be virtues and become the reverse.

    At that time Ramses was ten years of age. He could speak Arabic like a native, read three different scripts of ancient Egyptian as easily as he could read Latin, Hebrew, and Greek -which is to say, as easily as English - sing a wide variety of vulgar songs in Arabic, and ride almost anything with four legs. He had no other useful skills.

    He was fond of his pretty, gentle aunt, and I hoped she could help persuade him to stay with her that winter. The presence of his cousins would be an inducement; Ramses was fond of them too, although I am not certain the feeling was reciprocated.

    I had gone off to London that day with less trepidation than I usually felt when leaving Ramses because it was raining heavily and I assumed Evelyn would insist that the children remain indoors. I had strictly forbidden Ramses to conduct any chemical experiments whatever, or continue his excavations in the wine cellar, or practice knife-throwing in the house, or show little Amelia his mummified mice, or teach his cousins any Arabic songs. There were a number of other things; I forget them now, but I felt reasonably sure I had covered everything. I was therefore able to pursue my errands with a mind at ease, though the same could not be said about my body; the coal smoke that hangs over London had combined with the rain to form a blackish smut that clung to clothing and skin, and the streets were ankle-deep in mud. When I got off the train late that afternoon I was glad to see the carriage waiting. I had arranged to have most of my purchases shipped, but I was loaded with parcels and my skirts were wet to the knee.

    The lights of Amarna House shone warm and welcoming through the gathering dusk. How joyfully I looked forward to my reunion with all those I loved best, and to lesser but nonetheless pleasant comforts - a hot bath, a change of clothing, and a cup of the beverage that cheers but does not inebriate. Feeling the chill of wet feet and clinging skirts, I reflected that I might instead indulge in the beverage that does inebriate - but only when taken in excessive quantities, which I never do. There is, after all, nothing so effective in warding off a cold than a stiff whiskey and soda.

    Gargery, our excellent butler, had been