The last camel died at noon, page 17
A general chorus of disapproval greeted this last suggestion. 'They have several hours' start on us and they will travel as fast as they are able,' I remarked.
'The ugly man has a fire stick,' said Kemit.
'Daoud?' Emerson gave him a startled look. 'Are you certain?'
'He struck me with it,' Kemit said briefly.
'It seems to me that we have no choice,' said Ramses. 'According to the map, which has hitherto proved accurate, there is a source of water less than three days' journey from here. It would take twice that length of time to return to the river. We must go on.'
'Quite right,' said Emerson, jumping to his feet. 'And the sooner we start the better.'
We camped that night in a wilderness of rock and sand, without even a dead shrub to suggest there had ever been a drop of water available. In order to spare the camels, we had abandoned all our nonessential baggage, including the tents, but as the long hot day wore on, all the beasts showed ominous signs of weakness. Sheer willpower, of which I have a considerable amount, prevented me from admitting even to myself that I was in little better case. There was nothing with which to make a fire, so we dined on cold tinned peas and a sip of water, rolled ourselves in our blankets and sought what relief we could find in sleep.
I will not dwell on the misery of the night or in our sensations the following morning when we found two of the three camels dead. My malady was of such a nature that it seemed to be relatively quiescent in the morning and grow worse as the day went on, so I had been able to conceal it from Emerson. He had, I am bound to admit, other things on his mind. So we went on, until the event occurred which I have described, when the last camel dropped gently to its knees and - in a word - died.
I daresay most individuals would have been speechless with horror at this catastrophe; but that condition has never affected the Emerson-Peabodys. Adversity only strengthens us; disaster stimulates and inspires us. I found myself considerably refreshed by our discussion, and as we proceeded on foot, after a brief rest in the shade of the camel, I dared to hope my illness had been overcome by quinine and determination. (Mostly the latter.)
We had gone through the saddlebags and discarded most of their contents, since we could carry only the barest of necessities: the clothing on our backs, the remaining water-skins, with their sadly depleted and evil-tasting contents, and a blanket apiece. The latter were essential, for the night air was bitter cold, and they could be arranged to offer some shade during the hottest part of the day. Ramses insisted on carrying his little knapsack, and of course my parasol could not be left behind. Kemit carefully buried the rest of our goods, though I attempted to dissuade him from expending effort on such trivial things as changes of linen and a few books - for I never travel without a copy of Holy Writ and something to read. After he had finished covering the hole, we started walking. I confess to considerable pride in Ramses. He had not voiced a word of complaint or alarm, and he trotted briskly across the burning sands. Kemit, ever near him, slowed his steps to match the boy's.
My initial optimism proved false. The breeze that rose towards evening did not suffice to cool my burning brow. The terrain became ever more rough and broken, making walking difficult. Some distance ahead a range of low hills, as arid and hard as the desert floor, crossed the route the compass indicated.
They promised some illusion of shelter, and I kept telling myself that when I reached them I could rest. But a sudden stagger betrayed me; the ever-watchful eye of my devoted spouse saw me falter and his stalwart arms broke my fall. The soft sound of muted curses came like music to my ears as he lifted me, and such was the relief of resting against that broad breast, I let myself sink into a swoon.
The blessed trickle of water between my parched lips roused me. It was blood-warm and tasted like goat, but no draft of icy spring water has ever been more refreshing. I sucked greedily until reason returned; then sat up with a cry, striking the container from my lips.
'Good Gad, Emerson, what are you thinking of? You have given me far more than my share.'
'Mama is feeling better,' said Ramses.
They were gathered around me in an anxious circle. I lay in the shadow of a great rock, wrapped in a blanket.
'There are dead trees on the slope,' said Kemit, rising. 'I will make a fire.'
It was welcome; the night air was intensely cold. After consultation we agreed to pass around the brandy I carried for medicinal purposes. It lessened my headache, but made me uncommonly sleepy, so that I drowsed and woke and drowsed again. During one of these periods of wakefulness I overheard the others talking.
It was Kemit's voice that woke me. He spoke more loudly than was his habit. 'There is water, I know it. I have - I have heard the desert men say so.'
'Hmph,' said Emerson. 'We made slow progress today. At this rate it will take two more days.' 'Half a day for a running man.'
Emerson's snort of scepticism was even more emphatic. 'None of us can run at that speed, Kemit. And Mrs Emerson...' He had to pause to clear his throat, poor man.
'She has the heart of a lion,' Kemit said gravely. 'But I fear the demons are winning over her.'
I heard Emerson blow his nose vigorously. I wondered, vaguely, what he was using for a handkerchief.
A small, hard hand touched my forehead. 'Mama is awake,' said Ramses, bending over me. 'Shall I give her a drink, Papa?'
'Not under any circumstances,' I said firmly, and drowsed off again.
It seemed to me that I lay in that state, half-waking, half-sleeping, for the rest of the night, but I must have sunk into deeper slumber, for I woke with a start to find myself clasped close to Emerson's body. He was snoring loud enough to rattle my eardrums. I felt light-headed and weak, but comparatively better, and as the light strengthened I found great comfort in contemplation of the dear face so close to mine. Not that it was looking its best. A prickly stubble of black beard blurred the contours of his jaw, and his firm lips were blistered and cracked. I was about to press my own lips against them when a shrill voice broke the silence.
'Mama? Papa? I hope you will forgive me for waking you, but I feel I must inform you that Kemit is gone. He has taken the waterskin with him.'
Half a day to water, for a running man. That was what Kemit had said, and apparently he had decided to act upon it. By abandoning us he had a chance at saving himself. I did not doubt that those long legs of his could eat up the distance as quickly as he had claimed, especially when he had water to replenish the moisture lost through perspiration.
'I am sadly disappointed in Kemit,' I declared, as we passed round my canteen. Each of us took a sip; there was enough left, I surmised, for one more such indulgence. Fastening it onto my belt, I went on, 'I am seldom mistaken in my judgment of people; apparently this was one of my few errors.'
There was no need to discuss what we would do. We would go on, refusing to admit defeat, until we could go no farther. That is the way of the Emersons.
But we were a sorry crew. Bearded and gaunt, Emerson led the way. Except for his bright eyes, Ramses looked like a miniature mummy, thin as a bundle of sticks, brown as any sun-dried corpse. I was only glad I could not see myself. We plodded doggedly on until the cool of morning passed and the sun beat down with hammer blows of heat. I began to see strange objects in the glimmer of furnace-hot air - mirages of palm trees and minarets, gleaming white-walled cities, a towering cliff of black rock topped by fantastic ruins. They blended into a grey mist like that of evening. My knees gave way. It was an odd sensation, for I was fully conscious; I simply had no control over my limbs.
Emerson bent over me. 'We may as well finish the water, Peabody. It will only evaporate.'
'You drink first,' I croaked. 'Then Ramses.'
Emerson's lips cracked as they stretched in a smile. 'Very well.'
He raised the canteen. I focused my hazed eyes on his throat and saw him swallow. He passed it to Ramses, who did the same, and then gave it to me. I had finished the last of the water, two long, delicious swallows, before the truth dawned on me. 'You didn't - Ramses, I told you - '
'Talking only dries the throat, Mama,' said my son. 'Papa, I believe we can use one of the blankets as a litter. I will carry one end, and you - '
The harsh cackle that emerged from Emerson's throat was a travesty of his hearty laugh. 'Ramses, I am honoured to have sired you, but I don't think that idea is practicable.' Stooping, he lifted me in his arms and started walking.
I was too weak to protest. If there had been any liquid left in my body, I would have wept - with pride.
Only a man like Emerson, with the physique of a hero of old and the moral strength of England's finest, could have gone on as long as he did. As my senses swam in and out of consciousness I felt his arms holding me fast and the slow steady stride that carried us forward. But even that mighty frame had its limits.
When he stopped he had just enough strength left to lay me gently upon the ground before he crumpled and dropped at my side - and his last act was to stretch out his hand so that it rested on mine. I was too weak to turn my head, but I managed to move my other hand a scant inch, and felt another, smaller hand grasp it. As my senses faded into the merciful oblivion of approaching death, I thanked the Almighty that we were all together at the end, and that He had spared me the torture of watching those I loved pass on before me.
BOOK TWO
The City of the Holy Mountain
The Hereafter was not nearly so comfortable a place as I had been led to expect.
Not that I had possessed precise ideas of what lay Beyond, for, to be honest, the conventional images of angels and halos, harps and heavenly choirs had always seemed to me a little silly. (Not just a little silly, if I am to be entirely honest. Preposterous would be more like it.) At worst, I believed, there would be quiet sleep; at best, a reunion with those loved ones who had gone on before. I looked forward to meeting my mother, whom I had never known but who, I felt sure, must have been a remarkable individual, and to finding my dear papa in some celestial reading room pursuing his endless researches. I wondered if he would know me. In his earthly existence he was sometimes rather vague on that point.
Delirium takes strange forms. If I had not been so confident of having lived a thoroughly virtuous life, I might have thought myself translated to Some Other Place, for I felt as if I were being broiled on a huge griddle. Quantities of water were poured down my throat without assuaging my burning thirst. Worst of all, my demands for my husband went unanswered. I ran down endless corridors walled in mist following a shadowy form that ever retreated before me. Could my estimation of my moral worth be mistaken after all, I wondered? The worst punishment an offended Deity could visit upon me was vainly to seek my dear Emerson through the limitless halls of Eternity.
After eons of searching, I found myself no longer running, but walking with dragging steps down a long, sloping passageway where walls and floor were of a flat dull grey. Far ahead a flicker of light appeared, and as I proceeded it strengthened to a golden glow. I began to hear voices. Laughter rippled through them, and the sounds of sweet music; but despite the welcome they promised, my steps dragged and I fought the force that drew me remorselessly forward. To no avail! At last the passageway ended in a beautiful chamber filled with flowers and fresh greenery and suffused with a brilliance brighter than sunlight. A throng of people awaited me. Foremost among them was a beautiful woman whose heavy black tresses were wreathed with roses. With arms outstretched she beckoned me to her embrace. Behind her I saw a face I knew - that of my dear old nanny, framed by the starched white frills of her cap. A venerable couple stood nearby, dressed in the antique styles of the early part of the century; I recognised them from the portraits that had hung in Papa's study. The other faces were unfamiliar, yet I knew, with a certainty transcending mortal experience, that in past lives they had been as dear to me as I was to them. All faces were wreathed in smiles, all voices cried out in welcome. (My papa was not present, but then I had not expected he would be; no doubt he had become involved in some bit of fascinating research and forgot the appointment.)
There were children among them, but none had swarthy complexions and features a trifle too big for their faces. There were stalwart, handsome men - but none had eyes that blazed with blue brilliance, or dimples in their chin.
Summoning all my forces, I screamed that beloved name like an invocation. At last - at last! I was answered. 'Peabody,' the well-known voice thundered, 'come back from there this instant!'
The light vanished, the music and laughter faded into a long sigh and I fell through limitless night into the peace of nothingness.
When I opened my eyes, the vision before them bore a distinct resemblance to the Christian version of heaven. A cloudlike veil of gauzy white formed a canopy over the couch on which I lay and hung in soft folds around it. The curtains stirred in a gentle breeze.
When I attempted to rise, I found I could do no more than raise my head, and that not for long; but the thud with which it struck the mattress convinced me that I was not dreaming, or even dead. I tried to call for Emerson. The sound that came from my throat was scarcely louder than a whimper, but it brought immediate results. The footsteps that approached were steps I knew; and when he thrust the draperies aside and bent over me I found the strength to fling myself into his arms.
I will draw a veil over the scene that followed, not because I am at all ashamed of the strength of the mutual devotion that unites me with Emerson, or the ways in which it is manifested, but because mere words cannot describe the intense emotion of that reunion. When my narrative resumes, then, you may picture me in the affectionate grasp of my husband, and in a state sufficiently composed to take note of my surroundings.
First, of course, I asked about Ramses. 'Fully recovered and inquisitive as ever,' Emerson replied. 'He is somewhere about.'
With ever increasing astonishment I gazed about the room. It was of considerable size, the walls painted with bright patterns in blue, green, and orange, and interrupted, at intervals, by woven hangings. A pair of columns supported the ceiling; they had been painted to imitate palm trees, with the fretted leaves forming the capitals. The bed stood on legs carved like those of lions. There was no headboard; the panel at the foot of the bed was gilded and inlaid with formalised flower shapes. Beside the bed was a low table with an assortment of bottles, bowls, and pots, some of translucent white stone, some of earthenware. There was little more furniture in the room, only a few chests and baskets, and a chair whose seat was covered with the skin of some unknown animal. It was deep brown with irregular patches of white.
'So it is true,' I said, on a breath of wonder. 'I can scarcely believe it, even though I see it with my own eyes. Tell me everything, Emerson. How long have I been ill? To what miracle do we owe our survival? Have you seen Mr Forth and his wife? What is this place, and how has it gone undiscovered through all the years that - '
Emerson stopped my questions in a particularly pleasant manner, and then remarked, 'You shouldn't tire yourself, Peabody. Why don't you rest and take some nourishment, and then-'
'No, no, I feel quite well and I am not hungry. The danger is that my brain will burst with curiosity if it is not satisfied instantly.'
Emerson settled himself more comfortably. 'Perhaps you aren't hungry. I must have poured a gallon of broth into you since last night, when you first showed signs of returning consciousness. You were like a little bird, my dearest, swallowing obediently when I pressed the spoon to your lips, but never opening your eyes...' His voice deepened, and he had to clear his throat before going on. 'Well, well, that terrible time is over, thank Heaven, and I certainly don't want to risk the bursting of that remarkable brain of yours. We may as well take advantage of this time alone while it lasts.'
There was a strange note in his voice when he pronounced the last words; so anxious was I to hear his story, however, that I did not question it. 'Begin, then,' I urged. 'The last thing I remember is being laid gently upon the sand, and seeing you collapse at my side - '
'Collapse? Not at all, my dear Peabody. I was merely taking a little rest before going on. I must have dozed off for a bit; when I opened my eyes I could scarcely believe what they saw - a cloud of sand, rapidly approaching, raised by the hooves of galloping camels. I got to my feet; for whether they were friend or foe, demon or human, I meant to demand assistance from them. They saw me, the troop swerved, and one rider drew out in front of the others. He was practically upon me before I recognised him, and I verily believe it was sheer astonishment that made me - er - lose control of myself for a brief time. When I awoke I was surrounded by robed and hooded forms, one of which was pouring water over my face. I need not say, Peabody, that I turned from him to make certain you and Ramses were being attended to. It was Kemit himself who held a cup to your lips.
'He was soon pushed aside by another attendant, veiled in snowy white, who worked over you with an air of authority I had no wish to deny. Though my brain boiled with questions, I restrained them for the time; the most important consideration was your survival, my darling Peabody. After an anxious consultation it was decided to proceed at the quickest possible pace, for you were in need of attention that could not be rendered under those conditions. Ramses, too, was in poor shape, though not as serious as yours. I saw him lifted into the grasp of one of the riders, and helped place you on a remarkably clever sort of litter that had been rigged up, and then we set out. I rode beside Kemit and was able to satisfy some of my curiosity.
