"There is a certain amount of reluctance?"

"It's there, don't you think, Evan?"

Evan nodded gravely.

I looked along the table where Tybalt was deep in conversation with the men around him. Tabitha was sitting near him. I noticed with a pang of jealousy that occasionally she threw in a remark which was listened to with respect.

I felt I had lost Tybalt already.

After the meal Tybalt went out to look at the site and I was permitted to accompany the party. There was a fair amount of work going on in spite of the hour. The full moon and the clear air made it quite bright; it was easier to work at this hour than under the heat of the blazing sun.

The stark hills rising to the moonlit sky were menacing but rather beautiful. The parallel lines of pegs marking the search area, the little hut which had been set up, the wheelbarrows, the forks of the excavators, and the workmen were far from romantic.

Tybalt left me with Hadrian, who smiled at me cynically.

"Not quite what you expected?" he said.

"Exactly," I said.

"Of course, you're a veteran of Carter's Meadow."

"I suppose it is rather similar, although there they were merely looking for Bronze Age relics; and here it's the tombs of the dead."

"We could be on the verge of one of the really exciting discoveries in archaeology."

"How thrilling that will be when we find it."

"But we haven't done that yet, and you have to learn to be cautious in this game. As a matter of fact there are lots of things you have to learn."

"Such as?"

"Being a good little archaeological wife."

"And what does that mean?"

"Never complaining when your lord and master absents himself for hours at a stretch."

"I intend to share in his work."

Hadrian laughed. "Evan and I are in the profession but I can assure you we're not allowed to share in anything but the more menial tasks. And you think that you will be?"

"I'm Tybalt's wife."

"In our world, my dear Judith, there are archaeologists . . . wives and husbands are just by the way."

"Of course I know I'm nothing but an amateur . . . yet."

"But that is something you won't endure for long, eh? You'll soon be putting us all to shame—even the great Tybalt!"

"I shall certainly learn all I can and I hope I shall be able to take an intelligent interest . . ."

He laughed at me. "You'll do that. But in addition to an intelligent interest take equally intelligent heed. That's my sound advice."

"I don't really need your advice, Hadrian."

"Oh yes you do. Now! You're looking for Tybalt, I can see. He'll be hours yet. He might have waited until morning and devoted the first night in the Chephro Palace to his bride. Now had I been in his place . . ."

"You are not in his place, Hadrian."

"Alas! I was too slow. But mark my words, Tybalt's the man he is and so he'll remain. It's no use your trying to make him any different."

"Who said I wanted to make him any different?"

"You wait. And now let me take you back to the palace. You must be ready to sink into your bath of chalcedony."

"Is that what it is?"

"I expect so. Grand, don't you think? I wonder what Lady Bodrean would have thought of it. She wouldn't have approved of it for ex-companions even though it's turned out that you and she are connected—in a manner of speaking."

"I should love her to see me in my state apartments . . . especially if she had lesser ones."

"That shows a vengeful spirit, Cousin Judith. You are my cousin, you know."

"The thought had struck me. How are your affairs?"

"Affairs? Financial or romantic?"

"Well, both, since you raise the question."

"In dire straits, Judith. The former because that's their natural state and the latter because I didn't know in time that you are an heiress and missed the opportunity of a lifetime."

"Aren't you presuming too much? You don't think I would have allowed myself to be married for my money, do you?"

"Women who are married for their money don't know it at the time. You don't imagine the ambitious suitor comes along and going on his knees begs for the honor of sharing a girl's fortune, do you?"

"Certainly it would have to be done with more subtlety than that."

"Of course."

"Yet you imagine that you only had to beckon my fortune to have it in your pocket?"

"I'm only letting you into the secret now that it's too late. Come on, I'll get you back to the palace."

We did the journey back to the riverbank on mules where a boat was waiting to take us down the river to the short distance when we alighted on the opposite bank, almost at the gates of the palace.

When we arrived at the palace Theodosia came into the hall.

Evan was down at the site, she told us, and Hadrian remarked that he would have to go back. "You can depend upon it, it will be the early hours of the morning before we return. Tybalt's a hard taskmaster; he works like the devil himself and expects the same of his minions."

Hadrian went back and when I was alone with Theodosia she said: "Judith, come to my room with me and talk."

I followed her along the gallery. The room she and Evan shared was less grand than mine and Tybalt's, but it was large and dark, and the floor was covered by a Bokhara carpet. She shut the door and faced me.

"Oh, Judith," she said, "I don't like it here. I hated it from the moment we came. I want to go home."

"Why, what's wrong?" I asked.

"You can feel it. It's eerie. I don't like it. I can't tell Evan. It's his work, isn't it? Perhaps he wouldn't understand. But I feel uneasy . . . You don't of course. I wish they'd go home. Why can't they let the Pharaohs stay in their tombs? They couldn't have thought, could they, when they went to all that trouble to bury them that people were coming along and going where they shouldn't."

"But my dear Theodosia, the purpose of archaeology is to uncover the secrets of the past."

"It's different finding weapons and Roman floors and baths. It's this tampering with the dead that I don't like. I never did like it. I dreamed last night that we found a tomb and there was a sarcophagus just like the one that time in Giza House. And someone rose out of it with bandages unraveling . . ."

"I can't live that down, can I?"

"I cried out in my dream: 'Stop it, Judith.' And then I looked and it wasn't you coming out of the thing."

"Who was it?"

"Myself. I thought it was a sort of warning."

"You're getting fanciful, Theodosia. I was the one who was supposed to be that."

"But anyone could get fancies here. There's a sort of shadow of the past everywhere. This palace is centuries old. All the temples and tombs are hundreds and thousands of years old. Oh, I'm glad you've come, Judith. It'll be better now you're here. These people are so dedicated, aren't they? I suppose you are a bit. But I feel I can talk to you."

I said: "Are you worried about Evan?"

She nodded. "I often think what if what happened to Sir Edward should happen to him."

I had no glib comfort to offer for that. Hadn't I wondered whether it could happen to Tybalt?

I said, "Of course we get anxious. It's because we love our husbands and one gets foolish when one loves. If we could only take a calm rational view . . . look in from outside as it were . . . we should see how foolish all this talk would be."

"Yes, Judith, I suppose so."

"Why don't you go to bed," I said. "You're not going to sit up and wait for Evan, are you?"

"I suppose not. Goodness knows what time they'll come in. Oh, it feels so much better since you arrived, Judith."

"So it should. Don't forget we're sisters—though only half ones."

"I'm glad of that," said Theodosia.

I smiled at her, said good night and left her.

I went along the gallery. How silent it was! The heavy velvet gold-fringed curtains shut me in and my feet sank deep into the thickly piled carpet. I stood still, suddenly tense because I had an instinctive feeling that I was not alone in the gallery. I looked round. There was no one there and yet I was conscious of eyes watching me.

I felt a tingling in my spine. I understood why Theodosia was afraid. She was more timid than I—though perhaps less imaginative.

There was the softest footfall behind me. Someone was undoubtedly there. I turned sharply.

"Absalam!" I cried. "Mustapha!"

They bowed. "My lady," they said simultaneously.

Their dark eyes were fixed on my face and I asked quickly, "Is there anything wrong?"

"Wrong?" They looked at each other. "Yes, my lady. But it is still not too late."

"Too late?" I said falteringly.

"You go home. You ask it. You are new bride. He cannot refuse his beloved."

I shook my head.

"You don't understand. This is Sir Tybalt's work ... his life . . ."

"His life . . ." They looked at each other and shook their heads. "It was Sir Edward's life, and then his death."

"You must not be concerned," I said. "All will be well. When they have found what they seek they will go home."

"Then . . . too late, my lady," said Absalam, or was it Mustapha.

The other looked at me with deeply sorrowing eyes. "Not yet too late," he suggested hopefully.

"Good night," I said. "I shall retire to my room now."

They did not speak but continued to regard me in their mournful way.

I lay awake. The flickering light of candles showed the ceiling on which had been painted pictures in softly muted colors. I could make out the now familiar outline of Amen Ra, the great Sun God, and he was receiving gifts from an elaborately gowned figure, presumably a Pharaoh. There was a border of hieroglyphs—strange signs full of meaning. I wondered whether while I was here I might try and learn something of the language. I had a notion that there would be many nights when I lay alone in this bed, many days when I did not see Tybalt.