“Yes, but sometimes it leaves its cave and goes down to the river to drink; you said so yourself,” remarked John thoughtfully. “If I had a sword and a party of good men, I could take the treasure in its absence and then lie in wait for it in the back of the cave. I would tie a cravat round my eyes to protect them and then my men and I would kill it when it returned.”
“I wouldn’t need a sword and a party of men to get the treasure,” said Laurence with contempt. “If the stupid serpent has been guarding the treasure for thousands of years without realising the king must be dead, it will be easy to outwit. If I ever find the island, I will just close my eyes and feel my way up to the serpent, pretending to be a beggar. I will tell the serpent the king has sent for it, and then steal the treasure when the serpent slithers away.”
Darcy laughed.
“Our youngest son is nothing if not enterprising.”
Elizabeth laughed with him. “Whatever problems they face in life, our sons will always deal with them in their own individual ways. William will legislate for the problem, John will fight it, and Laurence will trick the problem into solving itself.”
“Whereas Beth will charm it and Jane will torment it, while Margaret…”
He stopped suddenly. Elizabeth turned her head slightly to see what he was looking at and saw that Margaret had appeared on deck, dressed in her nightgown.
“Is she sleepwalking?” Darcy asked.
“I am not sure,” said Elizabeth.
The little girl appeared to be looking at something on the bank.
“Margaret?” asked Elizabeth, rising to her feet.
Her daughter ignored her and padded softly toward the railings, her eyes fixed steadfastly on a point beyond their sight. Her plump cheeks were flushed in a way that Elizabeth was beginning to recognise. In her hands was the doll.
“Meg,” said Darcy, reaching her before Elizabeth and bending down to speak to her. “What is it? Could you not sleep?”
But still Margaret showed no sign of being aware of them.
“She is asleep, Darcy,” Elizabeth whispered. “Take care not to startle her.”
Just then Margaret’s eyelids fluttered open.
“Mama, Papa,” she said and put her arms around her father’s neck.
“What is it, my darling? Did you have a nightmare?”
Margaret rubbed at her eyes with one chubby hand.
“No, but Aahotep wanted to come upstairs. She’s feeling happier now she’s nearly home. She told me she’s missed the sand under her feet.” The little girl giggled. “She went for a run without any shoes on.”
“Aahotep should remember she needs lots of sleep,” said Elizabeth shortly. “Come back to bed now.”
Margaret rubbed her eyes again and nodded. Darcy picked her up and she lay her head against his shoulder.
“Mama,” she said as they began to walk along the deck back to the cabins. “Aahotep is sorry about your parasol.”
“My parasol, darling?”
“Yes. She was angry with you before because you said you were going to take her away from me, so she made the sea ruin it. But I told her off. I said it was your favourite and you would never steal her from me anyway.”
“Of course not, my dear.” Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged worried glances at this statement.
“She is sorry, really,” the little girl insisted. “She told me she does things like that without thinking and then realises afterward that she was wrong. I told her she should count to ten before she does something and then think about it again, and she said she will try. She also said to tell you your dresses are very pretty and suit you even though you are quite old and our clothes are funny shapes.”
“How kind,” Elizabeth said, unsure how to reply to such a queer statement from her youngest daughter, which did not sound like Margaret’s usual language at all.
Margaret yawned.
“Aahotep wants to be kind; she’s just not very good at it. She did something very bad once and she’s been punished for a very long time over it, and now she’s sorry and she’s tired and she wants to go home.”
They had reached the cabins where the girls were sleeping now. Jane was fast asleep in her narrow little bed, and Darcy and Elizabeth crept in silently so as not to disturb her. They slipped their youngest daughter under the netting they had strung up to deter mosquitoes and tucked her in.
Elizabeth kissed her daughter and suddenly asked, “Meg, what was it Aahotep did that was so bad?”
“Aahotep won’t tell me. She says it is not for the ears of the young and innocent.” As she drifted off to sleep, it was almost as though they could hear the words coming from older lips.
Elizabeth and Darcy waited until Margaret’s breathing was light and regular and then they slipped out of the cabin and back onto the deck again. It was now completely dark; stars glittered against the deep velvet black of the mysterious Egyptian night sky, and the moon was visible in all her ghostly white splendour, full and heavy, with the faint outlines of a face grinning at them. Despite the heat Elizabeth shivered.
“Are you cold, my love?” asked Darcy.
“No, but that was… disturbing, was it not?” Elizabeth said to him. “Just for a moment I wondered if Aahotep really spoke to Meg.”
As soon as she said it, she felt foolish. What was she thinking? That the doll was somehow alive? What nonsense! She would find herself believing Edward’s stories about serpents next.
“It was nothing but a bad dream,” said Darcy reassuringly.
Of course, she thought, what else could it have been?
“I wonder if it was even prompted by a guilty conscience,” Darcy went on. “You know how Meg loves to come into our room in the mornings. Perhaps she went into our cabin and opened the portholes for some fresh air, and then forgot about them and felt guilty when the water came in and ruined your parasol. You know how she loved to play with it. And you said yourself that her doll was wet. It was—”
Before he could finish his sentence, there was the sound of muted argument from the servants’ quarters. They turned to see the boat’s captain, the reis, berating his staff roundly. Chastened, the men slunk off.
“What is it?” Darcy enquired.
The reis turned to them.
“Nothing, just some foolish peasants who know no better. They have been telling each other ghost stories, and now one of them swears he has just seen a real ghost. They are stupid, not like we educated people,” he said, sticking out his chest with pride. “They believe the old stories about gods sailing the skies in their ships and wicked magicians and evil spirits. They think there are ghosts everywhere.”
“They were probably dazzled by the moonlight,” Elizabeth said, though she had the curious feeling she was trying to reassure herself and not the reis.
“You are very gracious.”
“What did he see?” Darcy asked curiously.
The reis laughed.
“He imagined he saw a woman running along the bank in the clothes of long ago, with the sand firm beneath her bare feet. She was laughing, he said. And then she disappeared in front of his eyes. No doubt she was being pursued by a powerful magician and was beautiful and rich too. These peasants and their tales! Good night, effendi,” he said and walked off to continue his duties on the boat.
Darcy and Elizabeth looked at each other.
“It is coincidence, nothing more,” said Darcy at last.
Elizabeth nodded her head vigorously. But even as they returned to their seats on the deck and Elizabeth lay her head once more against Darcy’s shoulder, she could not help but remember Margaret’s words about Aahotep running with delight along the riverbank. Also, unbidden and unwelcome, a line from Edward’s story, told to them in England, echoed in her memory: “…to this day, one can see a mad woman fleeing along the riverbank when the moon is full.”