Sometimes we were driven away from the town and we saw the fellaheens working in the fields with oxen and buffalo. They looked dignified in spite of their none-too-clean long cotton robes and small skull caps. Often we saw them eating their meal which invariably consisted of unleavened bread and a kind of bean which I discovered was known as Fool.

We would go together in the souk and sometimes buy wares which were displayed there. Our presence always seemed to generate excitement because of a hoped-for sale, I supposed; but no one ever tried to force their wares on us.

There was one shop which interested us particularly because seated there was a young girl, wearing a yasmak, bent over a piece of leather on which she was embossing a design.

We paused and she stopped work to regard us intently out of enormous eyes made to look even larger than they were by the heavy application of khol.

She said in tolerable English: "You ladies like?"

I said that we liked her work very much and she invited us to watch her for a moment or two. I was astonished by the clever way she created a pattern.

"You would like?" she asked indicating a row of slippers, bags, and wallets into which the soft embossed leather had been made.

We tried on the slippers and studied the bags, and the outcome was that I bought a pair of oyster-colored slippers with a blue pattern and Theodosia a kind of dolly bag with a cord by which it was drawn up and shut. Her bag was in the same oyster color with a pale red pattern.

The girl was delighted with her sale, and as the transaction was completed she said: "You with English? They dig in the valley?"

I said yes, our husbands were archaeologists and we had the good fortune to accompany them.

She nodded.

"I know, I know," she said excitedly.

After that we often stopped at her shop and now and then we bought something. We learned that her name was Yasmin, that her father and his before him worked in leather. Her two little brothers were learning to work on it too. She had a friend who dug for us. That was why she was so interested.

Whenever I passed the shop I always looked for her slight figure bent over her work or dealing with a customer. For me she was part of the now familiar life of the souk.

Neither of us ever went there alone, however. Although we felt perfectly at ease together, if, as we had done once or twice, we suddenly found ourselves alone, because one of us had paused to look at something or perhaps gone on ahead, an uneasiness would come over us and we would feel suddenly surrounded by an alien people. I knew that Theodosia felt this more intensely than I did. I had seen her when she thought she was lost and there was something near panic in her eyes. But that happened rarely and we usually managed to keep together even though the sights had become familiar to us. I imagined that the people had grown accustomed to seeing us. Although the children would stand and gaze up at us, the adults always passed us, aware of us, we knew, but keeping their eyes averted.

The blind beggars betrayed a certain eagerness as we approached. I couldn't tell why since they were blind. So we never failed to drop a coin into their begging bowls and always would come the grateful murmur: "Allah will reward you!"

Theodosia's attitude even changed and the feeling which the souk could arouse in her became like the delicious terror which children experience. She would cling to my arm, but at the same time she was enjoying the color and bustle of the markets as we passed men with brown faces and high cheekbones and the kind of noble profile which reminded me of the drawings I had seen on the walls of temples. The women were mostly veiled and all that was visible of their faces were the dark eyes made enormous by the khol they used. They were often clad in black from head to foot. When we went into the country we would see the women helping the men in the fields. In the early mornings or late afternoons we would take a trip in one of the boats up the Nile and see the women washing their clothes and chattering together. We often marveled at the way these women could carry a great jar of water on their heads without spill­ing a drop and walk so gracefully and in such a dignified manner as they did so.

It seemed that in a very short time the scene had become familiar to me. I was frustrated though, to be shut out from the main work.

Tybalt smiled at my continual demands to know if there was not something I could do.

"This is a very different operation from Carter's Meadow, you know, Judith."


"I do know that. But I long to have a part in it, even if it is only a small part."

"Later on," he promised. "In the meantime would you like to write some of my letters and keep some accounts? It will put you in the picture. You have to know so much, as well as working on the site."

I would be pleased to do this, I told him, but I did want to share in the active work as well.

"Dear Judith, you were always too impatient."

So I had to be content with that, but I was determined that it should be only temporarily.

Shem el Nessim was a public holiday and Tybalt was annoyed.

"Just because it's the first day of spring we have to stop work," he grumbled.

"How impatient you are!" I chided.

"My dear Judith, it's maddening. The cost of this is enormous and this is a sheer waste of a day. As my father always said, they never work as well after a holiday. They take a day or so to recover, so it is more than one day lost."

However, he was determined not to lose time and he and the party were at the site as usual. That was why on this Monday, which followed our Easter Sunday, Theodosia and I strolled down to the souk.

The shops were closed and the streets were different without the sounds and smells and activities of the vendors. There was a small mosque in one of the streets; the door was always open and we had glanced in from the corners of our eyes as we passed. It appeared to be a huge room and we had often seen white-robed figures kneeling on then-prayer mats. But we had always averted our eyes because we knew how easy it was to offend people by what would seem prying or irreverence for their religion.

On this day many people were making their way to the mosque. They were dressed differently in their best clothes and although the women kept to their black some of the men wore bright colors.

We paused to watch the snake charmer who squatted on the cobbles, his pipes in his mouth. We never failed to marvel at the sight of the snake rising from the basket as the music drew it out, fascinated it, soothed it, and sent it back into its basket. On this day of Shem el Nessim we noticed the soothsayer for the first time squatting on his mat near the snake charmer.

As we passed he cried: "Allah be with you. Allah is great and Mohammed his prophet."

I said to Theodosia: "He is asking to tell our fortunes."

"I love having my fortune told," said Theodosia.

"Well, then you shall. Come on. Let's see what the future holds for us."

Two mats were set out on either side of the soothsayer. He beckoned first to Theodosia and then to me. Rather selfconsciously we sat down on the mats. I was aware of a pair of piercing hypnotic eyes fixed on my face.

"English ladies," said the soothsayer. "Come from over the sea."

There was nothing very remarkable in his knowing that, I thought, but Theodosia was pink with excitement.

"You come with many people. You come here to stay . . . a week ... a month . . . two months . . ."

I glanced at Theodosia. That was almost certain too.

"You will know, of course," I said, "that we are with the party who are excavating in the valley."

He darted a look at Theodosia and said, "You married lady," he said, "you have fine husband." Then to me: "You . too, you married lady."

"We both have husbands. It is hardly likely that we should be here if we had not."

"From over seas you have come, back over seas you must go." He lowered his eyes. "I see much that is evil. You must go back . . . back across the seas."

"Which one of us?" I asked.

"You both must go. I see men and women weeping, I see a man lying still. His eyes are closed, there is a shadow over him. I see it is the angel of death."

Theodosia had turned pale. She started to rise.

"Sit," commanded the soothsayer.

I said: "Who is this man you see? Describe him."

"A man . . . perhaps he is a woman. There are men and women. They are underground . . . they feel their way . . . they disturb the earth and the resting places of the dead . . . and over them is the shadow. It shifts, but it never goes, it is always there. It is the angel of death. I see it clearly now. You are there . . . and you, lady. And now it is near you, and now it is over you, and it is waiting, waiting the command to take whomsoever it will be ordained to take."

Theodosia was trembling.

"Now it is clear," went on the soothsayer. "The sun is bright overhead. It is a white light up there but the angel of death is gone. You are on a big ship, you sail away. The angel has gone. He cannot live under the bright sun. There. I have seen two pictures. What may be is both of them. Allah is good. The choice is free."

"Thank you," I said, and I put coins into his bowl.

"Lady, you come again. I tell you more."

"Perhaps," I said. "Come, Theodosia."

He stretched out to take the bowl in which I had dropped the money. As his bare arm emerged from his robes I saw the sign on it. It was the head of a jackal. That was the sign of one of the gods I knew, but I could not remember which.