'You don't read Arabic, I suppose?'

Serena shook her head and laughed. 'I'm afraid not.'

'I have a diary in my cabin.'

'Belonging to Louisa Sh.e.l.ley, I know.' She saw Anna's face and laughed again. 'My dear, it's a small boat and there aren't very many of us. You don't surely expect it to stay a secret?'

'I suppose not.' Anna was taken aback. She was thinking suddenly of Andy's warning. 'Well, in this diary there is a description of how Louisa was given a little gla.s.s bottle by her dragoman as a gift. I have inherited the bottle. With it was a piece of paper, which I also have, written in Arabic, saying that the bottle, which it claims is pharaonic in date, has a sort of curse on it. The original owner, a high priest in Ancient Egypt, is following it and so is an evil spirit because a secret potion is sealed into the gla.s.s. I know it sounds ridiculous, like something out of a film, but it's worrying me...' Her voice trailed away in embarra.s.sment.

'You have this bottle with you, on the boat?' Serena asked quietly. In the general hubbub Anna could hardly hear her.

She nodded, relieved that Serena had not laughed. 'I brought it 75.with me. I wish I hadn't now. I don't really know why except it seemed right to bring it back to Egypt. I've had it for years. I always a.s.sumed it was a fake. An antique dealer friend of my husband's said it was a fake. Andy thinks it is a fake.' 'Andy Watson?' Serena's voice was sharp. 'What does he know about it? Have you shown it to him?'

'He saw it yesterday. He says ma.s.ses of fakes were sold in Victorian times to gullible tourists.'

'He's right of course. But you don't strike me as being gullible, and I am sure Louisa wasn't either, nor her dragoman, if he had any integrity at all.' Serena paused for a moment. 'And you are afraid of this curse?'

It wasn't an accusation, merely a statement of fact.

Anna didn't reply for a moment, then slowly she shrugged. 'I've only known about it since last night.' She bit her lip with an embarra.s.sed little laugh. 'But I suppose if I'm honest it is beginning to get to me. Even before I knew the story I had the strangest feeling there was someone watching me. I've been jumpy since I arrived in Egypt. Then once or twice I had the feeling that someone has been touching my things when the cabin door was locked and no one could have been there. I've tried to persuade myself I was dreaming or hallucinating or imagining it. I was tired after the visit yesterday and everything, but. . .' Once again she tailed off into silence.

'Let's take things one at a time. Tell me what the note says as far as you understand it. I take it you have a translation?' Serena's voice remained quiet, but firm. It had an attractive deep quality which Anna found profoundly rea.s.suring.

Serena thought for a while in silence after Anna had repeated it to her, staring down into the gla.s.s she had put down on the low table in front of them, while Anna anxiously watched her face.

'If Louisa felt there was a spirit guarding the bottle then we must a.s.sume the bottle to be genuine, obviously,' she said at last. 'And if it's the same bottle that you have brought with you then the chances are that it does have some kind of resonance about it.'

'Resonance?' Anna looked at her anxiously.

Serena laughed again. Anna was beginning to enjoy the deep throaty gurgle. That too was rea.s.suring. 'Well, my dear, as I said, let's take this one step at a time. Presumably you know you are 76.of sound mind When you had this strange feeling, you weren't asleep; at least you can be sure you weren't asleep the first time, as you had just stepped out of the shower! You were sober. You knew where you had left your bag. You have probably had your eyes tested at some time in the not too distant past, so, why do you not believe them?'

'That's easy. Because if the bag was moved and the bottle unwrapped, someone must have done it. I don't believe in ghosts. I'm not psychic. After all, nothing has ever happened to it, or me, before. Oh no,' Anna shook her head, 'I can't cope with that idea, I really can't.'

Serena watched her thoughtfully. 'Will you show me the bottle?'

'Of course. Come to my cabin after supper.' Anna bit her lip. 'To tell you the truth, I'm a bit nervous about going back in there now. I don't know what I'm going to find!'

'If it worries you so much, why not ask them to put the bottle in the boat's safe with our pa.s.sports and valuables?' Serena glanced up as outside the restaurant in the depths of the boat the gong began to ring.

They stood up and began to move towards the staircase which led down to the lower deck.

Anna shrugged. 'That's a good idea. I might just do it.' She shook her head. 'I can't believe all this! It must be my imagination. After all, nothing ever happened before I read about it. If it's true, why has nothing ever shown itself in London?' Serena turned towards her. 'Isn't it obvious? You've brought it back to Egypt, my dear. It has come home.'Unlocking the door later Anna reached in and turned on the light. The small room was empty. Beckoning Serena inside she closed the door behind them. They had lingered over supper with the others, but by an unspoken agreement had turned away from the lounge where the coffee was being served before Omar gave another talk to the a.s.sembled company. Tonight's topic was Egyptian history since the days of the pharaohs.

It seemed crowded in the tiny cabin with two people in there. Serena sat down on the bed whilst Anna swung her suitcase down from the wardrobe. Setting it on the floor she squatted down, unlocked it and threw back the lid. 'It's here.' She reached into 77.the pocket and pulled out the small silk-wrapped bundle. Without removing the scarf she handed it to Serena.

The cabin was very quiet. All the other pa.s.sengers were in the lounge watching as Omar set up a projector on the bar preparing to take them through Egypt's more recent history. The two corridors on the boat, off which the ten cabins led, were empty. For the crew, it was their turn to eat. The river bank was dark and deserted. There was a gentle lap of water from outside the half-open window and a dry, quiet rustle from the reeds as the wind began to rise, stealing subtly in from the desert.

Very carefully Serena began to unwrap the bottle. 'It's smaller than I expected.' Anna sat down beside her. 'It's tiny.' She gave a nervous giggle. 'So small, and it's causing so much ha.s.sle.'

'Hush.' Serena pulled away the scarlet silk and dropped it on the bedcover. She was gazing down at the bottle lying on the palm of her hand. She stroked it with her finger. 'It feels old. The gla.s.s is flawed. b.u.mpy.' Closing her eyes she went on stroking with her fingertip, gently, scarcely touching it. 'It's old. Full of memories. Full of time.' Her voice was very soft. Dreamy. 'This is real, Anna. It's old. Very old.' She went on stroking. 'There is magic in this. Power.' There was a long silence. 'I can see a figure with my mind's eye. He's tall. His eyes are piercing. They see through everything. Silver, like knife blades.' She was still, caressing the bottle with slow, gentle movements. 'He has so much power,' she went on slowly, 'but there is treachery there. He has enemies. He thinks himself invincible, but close to him there is hatred, greed. Someone, whom he thought a friend, is near him. Waiting. Drawing the darkness of secrecy around him. They serve different G.o.ds, but he has not realised it. Not yet. . .' Her voice trailed away into silence. Anna held her breath, watching mesmerised as the fingertip with its neat, oval, unpolished nail stroked gently on. 'There is blood here, Anna.' Serena spoke again at last, her voice a whisper. 'So much blood - and so much hate.'

'You're making it up.' Anna backed a step away from her. She leant against the door. 'You're frightening me!' Suddenly she was shivering uncontrollably. Was it this which had woken Louisa and frightened her in the darkness?

Slowly Serena looked up. Her eyes found Anna's face but she wasn't seeing it. Her pupils were huge; unfocused.

78.'Serena?' Anna whispered. 'Serena, please!'

There was another long silence then abruptly Serena rubbed her eyes. She smiled uncertainly. 'What did I say?'

'Don't you know?' Anna didn't move from her position near the door.

Serena looked down at the little bottle still lying in her hand. With a shiver she let it fall onto the bed. 'It is old. Very old,' she repeated, her voice completely flat. 'You said.' Anna swallowed. Her eyes were riveted to the bottle, lying on the bed. 'But what was all that other stuff? About the blood?'

Serena's eyes opened wide. 'Blood?' There was a moment's silence then she looked away. 'Oh s.h.i.t!' She put her hands to her face. 'I didn't mean that to happen. Forget it, for goodness sake. I'm sorry. Don't believe anything I said, Anna.' She reached out towards the bottle, changed her mind and stood up, leaving it where it was. 'I have a tendency to be melodramatic. Take no notice. The last thing I meant to do was scare you.

'But you did.'

'Did I?' For a moment Serena stood gazing into her face as if trying to read her thoughts. Then she shrugged and looked away. 'They must have finished the talk by now. Why don't we go to the lounge and have a drink?' She bent over the bed and reached out to the bottle. The hesitation was only momentary, then she picked it up and firmly rewrapped it in the silk square. She held it out to Anna. 'I should get Omar to put it in the safe for you. I think it probably is genuine.' Her voice was still strangely flat.

Anna took it reluctantly. She held it for a moment then she stooped and tucked it back in the suitcase. 'Later. I will. When there's someone at the desk.' She opened her mouth to ask another question, then she changed her mind. Grabbing her purse she reached for the door handle. 'Come on. Let's get out of here.'

Drinks in hand they made their way through the lounge where the others had settled in groups round the low tables and they stepped out onto the open covered deck where the tables and chairs were deserted. Anna shivered. 'There's a cold wind.' 'I don't mind. It's wonderful - cleansing. Such a relief after the heat of the day.' Serena shook her head. 'Let's climb up onto the sundeck.' She led the way up to the front of the boat, where Anna had 79.been asleep earlier. All was in darkness up there as they looked down on the string of small coloured lights around the awning of the lower deck. Looking up they could see the velvety black of the sky and the intense brightness of the stars. They stood leaning on the rail looking out across the river. The night was somehow more silent for the sounds of talk and laughter wafting out of the doors below them.

Anna fixed her eyes on the wavy reflections in the dark water below them. 'How did you do it?' She took a sip from her gla.s.s.

Serena didn't pretend not to know what she was talking about. She shrugged. 'They call it psychometry. It's a kind of clairvoyance, I suppose. Reading an object. I've always been able to do it, since I was a child. It was what first drew me to the study of psychic phenomena. In children it's called a vivid imagination. In adults ... she paused. 'Eccentricity. Lunacy. Schizophrenia. Take your pick.' There was the slightest touch of bitterness in her voice for a second, then it was gone. 'It's not something to be cultivated lightly, as you can imagine, but it has its uses. Sometimes.'

Anna was still gazing down at the water. 'What did your husband think about it?' 'Ah.' Serena smiled ruefully. 'Another woman, of course, goes unerringly to the crux of the problem. He vacillated between thinking me delightfully scatty and certifiably insane. But to do him credit he never tried to get me actually locked up.' Her quiet laugh made Anna glance up at last.

Serena stood back from the rail and sat down on one of the chairs. Leaning back with a sigh she stared up at the stars. 'We were very happy. I adored him. I kept all this stuff firmly under the hatches as much as I could while he was alive. Then, when he died,' she paused, 'I suppose it was rather like coming out. I found kindred spirits. I read. I talked. I wrote. I studied. Charley thinks I'm mad, but she's not there much and frankly I don't care what she thinks. I began to study Egyptian mysticism two years ago and I came out here to get a feel of the place in a group before coming back on my own.'

Anna turned back to the river, leaning on the rail. She too was looking up beyond the low bank and the dark silhouette of the trees. The stars were so bright. So clear. She shivered. 'So, tell me about my bottle.' 'I don't remember what I said.' Serena took a sip from her gla.s.s.

80.She caught sight of Anna's face in the darkness and gave a rueful smile. 'No, honestly. I don't. Sometimes I do, but more often than not I go into some sort of trance state. I'm sorry, Anna. But that's how it is for me. You will have to tell me what I said.'

'You talked about hatred and treachery and blood.' The words hung for a moment in the silence. 'You described a man. The priest. You said he was tall, with piercing eyes.' She turned with a start at the sound of footsteps behind them.

'That sounds like me. Tall. With piercing eyes!' Andy had appeared at the top of the steps. 'Come on, girls. What are you talking about so secretively? Serena, - old thing, I can't have you appropriating the most beautiful woman on the ship. It's not allowed. Especially if you're going to discuss other men.' He gave an amiable grin.

Serena and Anna exchanged glances.

'We'll join you in a minute, Andy.' Serena did not move from her chair. 'Now, b.u.g.g.e.r off, there's a good chap.'

Anna hid a smile. She said nothing, watching his momentary discomfiture. It was followed by a shrug. 'OK. Don't shoot!' He raised his hands in mock surrender. 'I know when mere males are not wanted. There'll be drinks on the bar for you if you want them.

They watched as he padded back across the deck with a nonchalant wave of the hand and disappeared down the steps out of sight.

It was a few moments before Serena spoke. 'Andy is a scoffer. A non believer. I think it would be wiser not to mention any of this to him.'

'I agree.' Anna sat down on the chair next to her. She pulled her sweater round her shoulders with a shiver. 'So, what do I do?'

'You could throw the bottle in the Nile.' Serena tipped back her head and poured the last dregs of her drink down her throat. 'Then my guess is you'll be shot of the problem.'

Anna was silent. 'It was Ha.s.san's gift to Louisa,' she said at last.

'And what happened to them?'

Anna shrugged. 'I haven't read much of the diary yet, but I know she came home safely to England.'

'It's up to you, of course.' Serena leant forward with a sigh, her elbows on her knees.

'You said you were studying Egyptian mysticism,' Anna said slowly. 'So, perhaps there is something you could do. Could you 81.talk to him?' Part of her couldn't believe she was actually asking; another part was beginning to take Serena very seriously.

'Oh, no, that doesn't qualify me to deal with this.' Serena shook her head. 'Anna dear, this is - or could be - heavy-weight. A high priest, if that is what he was, would be way out of my league. Probably out of the league of anyone alive today. Those guys practically invented magic. You've heard of Hermes Trismegistus? And Thoth, the G.o.d of magic?'

Anna bit her lip. 'I don't want to destroy the bottle.'

'OK.' Serena levered herself to her feet. 'I tell you what. You read some more of that diary. See what happened to Louisa. How did she deal with it? Perhaps nothing happened to her at all. I'll spend the night thinking about this; tomorrow we go to the great healing temple of Kom Ombo. Who knows, perhaps we'll be able to appease the guardian of the bottle by making an offering to his G.o.ds.'It was late when Anna let herself into her cabin. She stood for a moment, her hand still on the lightswitch, staring at the suitcase lying on the floor. Behind her the short corridor was empty. Serena had gone to her own cabin which she shared with Charley on the floor below.

Anna bit her lip. An hour's cheerful socialising in the boat's lounge bar talking to Ben and Joe and Sally had relaxed and distracted her. She had not forgotten that the bottle would still be here in her cabin, but had been able to put it to the back of her mind. Leaving the door open behind her she went over to the suitcase and knelt down. Opening it, she looked in. Only a small bulge in the side pocket showed where the bottle was hidden. Taking a deep breath she took it out, still carefully wrapped in its scarlet silk. Not stopping to think she left the cabin, hurried down the short corridor to the main staircase and ran down to the reception desk at the foot of the stairs on the restaurant floor. There, behind a panel in the wall was the boat's safe where they had all lodged their pa.s.sports and any other valuables they didn't want to leave lying around in cabins or bags. The desk was empty and in darkness. Taking a quick, jerky breath, she punched the bra.s.s bell which lay on the otherwise empty polished surface. The sound resonated round the reception area, but the door behind the desk 82.which led towards the crew's quarters remained closed. Agitatedly she put out her hand to strike the bell again, then she changed her mind. A glance at her watch had reminded her that it was nearly midnight. It wasn't fair to expect anyone to be on duty at this hour. Except for Omar. He had told them he was there for them at any time of day or night if there were any problems. But he had meant appendicitis or murder, not a forgotten trinket. That could wait until morning. Or could it?

Turning she hurried back towards the stairs. His cabin was on the same level as hers, at the far end of the corridor.

Outside his door she stopped. Was she really going to wake him at this hour of the night to ask him to put something in the safe? For several seconds she stood there, undecided, then turning away she walked slowly towards her open cabin door.

On the threshold she hesitated. She had only been away a few minutes but something in the cabin had changed. Her fingers tightened involuntarily around the small silk-wrapped bundle in her hand as she stood in the doorway peering in. The suitcase was still lying where she had left it, the lid thrown back, in the middle of the floor. She stared at it. It was empty but something was different. The obliquely slanting light from the bedside lamp threw a wedge- shaped black shadow across the empty case, a shadow in which something was lying. Something which hadn't been there before. Her mouth dry, her heart beating fast, she forced herself to take a step nearer. A handful of brown crumbled fragments of what looked like peat lay in the bottom of the case. She looked down at them warily, then slowly she crouched down and reached out her hand. They were dry, papery to the touch. When she drew her fingers over them they disintegrated into fine dust. Frowning, she glanced round the room. Nothing else had changed. Nothing had been moved. She rubbed the dust between her fingers then slowly she bent to sniff her fingertips. The smell was very faint. Slightly spicy. Exotic. For some reason it turned her stomach. She dusted her hands together and slammed the suitcase shut. Swinging it back onto the cupboard she rubbed her hands several times on her towel then at last she shut the cabin door and turned the key.

She undressed and showered in nervous haste, her eyes constantly searching the corners of the room. Wrapping the small silk parcel in the polythene bag in which she had packed her film she tucked it into her cosmetics bag and zipping it up tightly she put 83.it on the floor of the shower. Then she closed the door on it. For several minutes she stood in the centre of her cabin, every muscle tensed, listening intently. From the half-open window she could hear a faint rustle from the reeds. In the distance for an instant she heard the thin piping call of a bird, then silence fell. Turning off the main cabin light at last she climbed slowly into bed and lay there for a moment in the light of the small bedside lamp, listening once more. Then she reached across and picked up the diary. She did not feel in the least bit sleepy now and at least she could lose herself for a while in Louisa's story and see if she could find any references to the bottle and its fate. Leafing through the pages she found herself looking at a tiny ink sketch, captioned 'Capital at Edfu'. It showed the ornate top of one of the columns in the courtyard she had seen only that morning. 'The Forresters decided yet again that it was too hot to do anything other than stay in the boat, so Ha.s.san procured donkeys so that he and I could ride towards the great temple of Edfu.

Anna glanced up. The room was quiet. Warm. She felt safe. Settling herself a little more comfortably, she turned the page and read on.

The donkey boy who had brought them to the entrance to the temple retired to the spa.r.s.e shade of a group of palm trees to wait for them while Ha.s.san led the way across the sand. He had commandeered two other small boys to carry the paintbox and easel and sketchbook, their basket of food and the sunshade. They set up camp in the lea of one of the great walls, Louisa sitting on the Persian rug, watching as the boys set down their burden and, rewarded with a half-piastre, scurried away.

'Come and sit by me.' She smiled at Ha.s.san and patted the rug. 'I want to hear the history of this place before we explore it.'

He lowered himself on the edge of the rug, sitting cross-legged, 84.his back straight, his eyes narrowed against the sunlight. 'I think you know more than me, Sitt Louisa, with your books and your talks with Sir John.' He smiled gravely. - 'You know that's not true.' She reached for the small sketchbook and opened it. 'Besides, I like to hear you talk while I draw.'

Every second the sun rose higher in the sky. She wanted to capture the elegance and power of this place before the shadows grew too short, to record its majesty, the beauty of the carvings which had a delicacy all their own in contrast to the solidity and sheer size of the stone they were carved from. She wanted to reproduce the strength and wonder of the statues of Horus as a falcon, remember the expression of those huge round eyes surveying the unimaginable distances beyond the walls of the temple. Uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g her water jar she poured some into the small pot which clipped on the edge of her paintbox and reached for a brush. 'The temple has only recently been excavated by Monsieur Mariette. Before he came the sand was up to here.' Ha.s.san pointed vaguely at a spot about halfway up the columns. 'He cleared so much away. There were houses built on the temple and close round it. They have all gone now. And he dug out all this.' He waved towards the high walls of sand around the temple on top of which the village perched uncomfortably over the remains of the ancient town. 'Now you can see how huge it is. How high. How magnificent. The temple was built in the time of the Ptolemies. It is dedicated to Horus, the falcon G.o.d. It is one of the greatest temples in Egypt.' Ha.s.san's low voice spun the history of the building into a legend of light and darkness. The sands encroached, then receded like the waters of the Nile.

Louisa paused in her work, watching him as the pale ochres and umbers from her palette dried on the tip of her brush. His face was one minute animated, intense, the next relaxed, as the web of his narrative spun on. Dreamily she listened, lost in the visions he was conjuring for her, and it was a moment before she realised he had stopped speaking and was looking at her, a half-smile on his handsome face. 'I have put you to sleep, Sitt Louisa.'

She smiled back, shaking her head. 'You have entranced me with your story. I sit here in thrall, unable even to paint.'

'Then my purpose has failed. I sought to guide your inspiration.' The graceful shrug, the gentle self-deprecating gesture of that brown hand with its long expressive fingers did nothing to release 85.her. She sat unmoving watching him, unable to look away. It was Ha.s.san who broke the spell. 'Shall I lay out the food, Sitt Louisa? Then you can sleep, if you wish, before we explore the temple.' He rose in a single graceful movement and reached for the hamper, producing a white cloth, plates, gla.s.ses, silver cutlery. Then came the fruit, cheeses, bread and dried meats.

He no longer questioned her insistence that he eat with her, she noticed. The place settings, so neatly and formally arranged, were very close to each other on the tablecloth.

Washing her brush carefully in the little pot of water she dried it to a point and laid it down. 'I have such an appet.i.te, in spite of the heat.' She laughed almost coqettishly and then stopped herself. She must not get too friendly with this man who was, after all, in her employ; a man who, in the eyes of the Forresters was no more than a hired servant.

She slipped off the canvas folding stool upon which she had been sitting before her easel and sank cross-legged on the Persian rug, fluffing her skirts up round her. When she glanced up he was offering her a plate, his deep brown eyes grave as they rested for a moment on her face. There wasn't a trace of servitude in his manner as he smiled the slow serious smile she was growing to like so much. Taking the lump of bread he offered she put it on her plate. 'You spoil me, Ha.s.san.'

'Of course.' Again the smile.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, listening to the cheerful twittering of the sparrows which lived in the walls high above them. Another party of visitors appeared in the distance and stood staring up at the huge pylon. The woman was wearing a pale green dress in the latest fashion and Louisa reached for her sketchpad, captivated by the splash of lightuess in the intensity of the courtyard. The figures disappeared slowly out of sight and she let the pad fall. 'We look like exotic b.u.t.terflies one minute, and like trussed fowl the next,' she commented ruefully. 'Out of place in this climate. So uncomfortable, and yet for a while, beautiful.' 'Very beautiful.' Ha.s.san repeated the word quietly. Louisa looked up, startled, but he had already turned away, intent on the food.

'Some of the ladies in Luxor wear Egyptian dress in the summer, he said after a moment. 'It is cool and allows them to be more comfortable.'

86.'I should like that so much,' Louisa said eagerly. Then her face fell. 'But I can't see Lady Forrester tolerating me as a guest on her boat if I did anything so outrageous. I have gowns of my own which would be more comfortable than this,' she gestured at her black skirt, 'but sadly they are bright colours and the Forresters would not approve and so I decided I could not wear them in their presence for risk of offending them.' Janey Morris's gowns had, she noticed, been folded away by Jane Treece amongst her nightwear.

'Perhaps on our visits away from the boat we could arrange somewhere for you to change so that Lady Forrester need not be made unhappy.' This time there was a distinct twinkle in his eye. 'I can arrange for clothes for you, Sitt Louisa, if you wish it. Think how much more comfortable it would be for you now.' Although he barely looked at her she had the strangest feeling he could see through to every st.i.tch she had on - the tight corset, the long drawers, the two petticoats, one of them stiffened, beneath the black skirt of her travelling dress, to say nothing of the lisle stockings, held up with garters and the st.u.r.dy boots.

'I don't think I can bear it a moment longer.' She shook her head. The tight wads of her hair, her hat, suddenly everything stifled her. 'Can we buy some things for me to wear here in the village, on the way back to the boat?'

He shook his head. 'We need to use discretion. I shall arrange it before we reach our next destination. Have no fear, you will be comfortable soon.

Setting one of the boys to guard their belongings they strolled a little later through the colonnaded court into the hypostyle hall and stood gazing around them at the ma.s.sive pillars. 'You feel the weight of the centuries on your head here, do you not?' His voice was almost a whisper.

'It is all so huge.' Louisa stared up, awed.

'To inspire both men and G.o.ds.' Ha.s.san nodded, folding his arms. 'And the G.o.ds are still here. Do you not feel them?' In the silence the distant cheeping and gossip of the sparrows echoed strangely. Louisa shook her head. It was the sound of English hedgerows and London streets where the birds hopped in the road to scavenge between the feet of dray horses. Out here, amidst so much grandeur they were incongruous.

'Shall we go on?' Ha.s.san was watching her face as the shadows fell across it. Ahead of them the second hypostyle hall was darker 87.still. He was walking slightly ahead of her, a tall stately figure. On this occasion he was wearing a blue turban and a simple white galabiyya, with embroidery at the neck and hem. The shadows closed over him as he moved out of sight. For a moment she stood still, expecting him to reappear, waiting for her to follow him. But he didn't. The silence seemed to have intensified around her. Even the birds were suddenly quiet in the unremitting heat.

'Ha.s.san?' She took a few steps forward. 'Ha.s.san? Wait for me!'

Her boots echoed on the paving slabs as she moved towards the entrance where she had seen him disappear. 'Ha.s.san?' She spoke only quietly. Somehow it seemed wrong to call out loud, like shouting inside a cathedral.

It was too quiet. She couldn't hear him. 'Ha.s.san?' She reached the entrance and peered into the darkness, suddenly frightened. 'Ha.s.san, where are you?' 'Sitt Louisa? What is wrong?' His voice came from behind her. She spun round. He was standing some twenty feet away in a ray of light from an unseen doorway. 'I am sorry. I thought you were still beside me.'

'But I was. I saw you go in there...' She spun round towards the dark entrance. 'No. I said we would go and look at the room of the Nile. It is the room from where the water was brought each day for the priests' libations.' He came towards her, his face suddenly concerned.

'I saw you, Ha.s.san. I saw you go in there.' She was pointing frantically. 'No, lady.' He stopped beside her. 'I promise. I would not frighten you.' Just for a moment he put his hand on her arm. Wait. Let me look. Perhaps there is someone else here.' He strode towards the darkened entrance to the hall of offerings and stood peering in. 'Meen! Who is there?' he called out sharply. He took a step further in. 'There is no one.' He was shading his eyes to see better. 'But there are many chambers further in. Perhaps there are other visitors here.' 'But I saw you. You.' Louisa moved forward until she was standing beside him. 'If it wasn't you, it was someone as tall, as dark, dressed the same...'

She leant forward on the threshold of a small inner chamber within the thickness of the wall and her arm brushed his. She felt 88.the warmth of his skin, smelt the cinnamon scent of him. 'See, it is empty.' His voice was close in her ear. Usually when she came close to him he moved deferentially away. In the narrow doorway he remained where he was. 'Without a candle there is nothing to see. I shall fetch one from the hamper -'

'No.' She put her hand on his arm. 'No, Ha.s.san. I can see it's empty.' For a moment they stayed where they were. He had turned from looking into the darkness and was gazing down at her with a look of such love and anguish that for a moment she found herself completely breathless. Then the moment had gone. 'Ha.s.san -'

'I am sorry.' He backed away from the door and bowed. 'I am sorry, Sitt Louisa. Forgive me. There is much to see yet, and we have need of light for the inner sanctuary. Istanna shwaiyeh. Please, wait a little. And I will fetch it.' He strode away from her, his face impa.s.sive once more, leaving her standing where she was in the doorway.

She glanced back into the darkness. Her heart was hammering under her ribs and she felt hot and strangely breathless. Turning slowly to follow him she found her fists clutched in the folds of her skirts. Firmly she unclenched them. She took a deep breath. This was nonsense. First she was having visions, imagining she saw him when he wasn't there, then she was reacting to him as though... But her thoughts shied away even from the idea that she was attracted to him. This could not be.

He had not waited for her. She saw him stride once more into the shadows and then out into the sunlight of the great courtyard in the distance. This time he stayed clearly in sight, and now she could see too, the other group of visitors. She could see the woman in the green dress, gazing up at something their guide was pointing out to them in a frieze far above their heads. She was bored, even from so far away Louisa could see it. And she was hot and uncomfortable in her chic flounced gown with its fashionable slight train dragging in the dust behind her. She could see the dark patches of perspiration showing beneath the woman's arms, the broad tell-tale stripe of dampness between her shoulderblades and suddenly she longed again for the loose clothing Ha.s.san had promised or the soft cool fabric of the dresses folded beneath her nightgowns in the drawer on the boat. Wasn't that what she had come to Egypt for? To be free. To be in charge of her own destiny. To be answerable to no one now except herself. Not to her husband's family in 89.London. Not to the Forresters. Not to their maid. With a sudden leap of excitement she picked up her skirts and ran after Ha.s.san. 'Wait for me!' She smiled at the other woman pityingly as she whirled past and wondered with a gurgle of amus.e.m.e.nt what she thought of this vulgar, hurrying baggage who had emerged from the holy of holies in pursuit of a tall, handsome Egyptian.

90.

Thy servant hath offered up for thee a sacrifice and the divine mighty ones tremble when they Took upon the slaughtering knife...I see and I have sight; I have my existence; I have done what hath been decreed; I hate slumber...

and the G.o.d Set hath raised me up!In the silence comes the sound of sc.r.a.ping, faint and far away. It is an intrusion, a sacrilege in the thick heat of the dark where no whisper of movement, no breath, no pulse sounds inside or outside the linen that wraps the bodies. On the walls the sacred texts spin their legends into the firmament. For those two men the prayers were hasty, they were quickly copied. The net of prayers to speed them on their way, to protect their souls, to direct their spirit is written in pigment, not carved upon the rock. In the corner, hidden, powerful, commanding, written by an acolyte, one single prayer begs for their spirits, if they lie ill at ease, to reappear in the world they left so suddenly. 'I hate slumber...'