"So I told you. But . . ."
"Who would have noticed a few missing coins, a gold ring or two, under the circumstances?" Hasdrubal said. "Or for that matter, what could be done about one silver ingot, given our mission? But Mago didn't take them. That's because they were already promised to him. The cargo was never to arrive at its destination. Some of it was to be used to pay those crew members who were part of the conspiracy; the rest would go into the coffers of the traitor. We were to be overtaken by Mago and his friends, killed, no doubt, and the cargo would simply disappear. Why else would he leave the coins and jewelry there?"
"But you said the person who sent you on this mission was above reproach."
"I did, but I no longer believe it."
"What do you want me to do?" the boy cried.
"You must survive this night--the sea will take you to shore, I am certain. You must make your way back to Qart Hadasht, taking care not to be captured by Agathocles' men. And then you must get an audience with the Council of the Hundred and Four and tell them this story."
"This is not possible for someone like me," the boy gasped.
"It is," Hasdrubal replied. "Can you reach the pendant around my neck? Yes? Good. Take it to the home of Yadamalek in a place I will tell you. He will recognize the pendant as mine and believe you. He'll see to it that what needs to be done, is carried out quickly. Will you do it?"
"I will," the boy said. "And the name of the traitor?"
Hasdrubal pulled the boy closer and cried the name in his ear.
F OUR DAYS. WE were in the forum of the ancient Roman city called Sufetula. Three temples, the largest dedicated to Jupiter, flanked by smaller ones to either side, Juno on the right, Minerva on the left, towered above us. That the Romans built such a magnificent city out here in the Tell, and embellished it with sweeping avenues, soaring arches, and towering columns was a marvel indeed.
But I wasn't studying the temples. Instead I pulled back into the shade of the Antonine Gate that leads into this great space, to study our group. I realized that I had been so wrapped up in the details of the trip--whether the bus would arrive on time, if dinner could be postponed for half an hour to allow a longer visit at a site, if everyone's needs had been accounted for--that I had not really looked at them as individuals at all.
I knew there was an evil presence among them, but I didn't know who. I thought if I looked at them, really looked at them, the answer would be clear. I searched for the jarring note, the misplaced gesture, the momentary slip of the mask. But they all looked like ordinary people to me.
Over in front of Jupiter's temple, Susie and Cliff shared a laugh. Now that Catherine was gone, Susie had apparently set her sights on Cliff as her next husband, and he seemed to be enjoying her company. For a moment or two I wondered if perhaps Susie, desperate for a new mate, had tampered with Catherine's clothes, and even pushed her rival down the stairs to scare her off. Watching Susie, though, as she buzzed about the site, I couldn't believe she was guilty.
Chastity, whose shameless, but somehow innocent, flirtation with Emile had been rebuffed, had gone back to being a distressed, possibly disturbed, teenager. Over in one corner, by herself, she lit a match and watched it burn, dropping it into the sand at her feet only after it had seared the tips of her fingers. She had become very needy for my attention in the last day or two, asking for help buying souvenirs to take back to her friends, or asking me to check her overnight bag to see if she'd brought all the right things. Suddenly I couldn't stand watching her do this anymore. I crossed the forum, grabbed the book of matches, saying "Stop that, Chastity! You'll hurt yourself."
"She doesn't even notice I'm doing it," she said.
"Who?" I asked.
"My mother."
"She notices."
"Then she doesn't care."
"She cares, Chastity, believe me."
"She drove him away," she said.
"Who?" I asked her, wondering for a moment if she meant Emile.
"My dad."
This, then, was what it was all about, wasn't it? The matches, and the pathetic attempts to get Emile to notice her. She was competing with her mother for a man because her mother couldn't get, or keep, one. "Your mother and father don't get along. That's unfortunate. But it doesn't mean that either of them has stopped loving you," I said, trying to put my arm around her. She turned away from me, and looked toward her mother.
Marlene, also spurned by Emile, had now pinned forlorn hopes on Briars. As he spoke, with his expansive gestures, and very comfortable male presence, to which neither she nor I were immune, she stood, eyes riveted on him, with a look of what I can only call longing, crossing her face. "I hate her," Chastity said.
The other person paying grave attention to Briars was Nora, her head turning as he pointed to some feature or other, leaning forward to catch what he said. Behind her, Susie and Cliff laughed, but this time, Nora did not return to his side. It was as if the bonds that linked her to Cliff were loosening in the warmth of the North African sun. She looked over at Chastity for a moment or two, and then walked toward her. I watched her speak to the girl for a moment or two, then take her hand and pull her toward the group. Chastity resisted at first, but then came along. It was such a surprising gesture, so out of character for Nora, a woman who had kept so much to herself, clinging only to Cliff, that I could hardly believe my eyes. I could only admire the way she'd brought Chastity back into the group, something both her mother and I were incapable of doing.
Betty and Ed stood together, Betty giggling at Ed's jokes. They were a strange couple, the sixty-something matron and the young gay man half her age. Clearly, they enjoyed each other's company. Betty and Jimmy no longer sat together on the bus. Nor did Ben and Ed. Ben sat by himself, just as he now stood by himself, hands thrust into his jeans pockets, looking about him. Jimmy had chosen to go to a café across the road from the site, for a drink. "Not another pile of rocks," he said, when the bus pulled up to the ruins. He was becoming more and more isolated from the group and distant from his wife.
Aziza seemed to be enjoying herself, for the first time in many days. As she looked up at the graceful lines of the temple of Minerva, goddess of wisdom, glowing gold in the afternoon sun, she took a very deep breath, then exhaled as if releasing her problems along with her breath. Perhaps feeling my eyes on her, she looked over at me in the archway, and waved.
Curtis followed her about like a lovesick puppy, knowing that in some way, perhaps permanently, he had lost her, or at least, if she had any love left for him, it is tempered by a solid sense of what he was, her hero no more. I wondered briefly whether he would ever regain some stature with her, or if the marriage was doomed.
We were on our way to Tozeur, an oasis town not far from the Algerian border, and a setting-off point for trips to the Chott el-Jerid, a huge salt lake formed when the Mediterranean flooded the land, then retreated, thousands of years ago, and to the Grand Erg Oriental to the south. The Grand Erg is part of the band of desert that separates the North African coast from the subcontinent far to the south. To the west, the Grand Erg Oriental becomes the Grand Erg Occidental. To the east, it is called simply desert, Sahara.