"Poor virgins! They did have a bad time. They were always being thrown to dragons or chained to rocks or something. It couldn't have been a lot of fun being a virgin in the old days."
"I've no doubt you'll enjoy the ceremony but it is going to hold up work which is the last thing I want at the moment."
"I can't wait, Tybalt, for you to take your step into that undisturbed tomb. It will be you, won't it? How happy I shall be for you! It'll be as you wanted it. You will see the footsteps in the dust of the last person to leave the tomb before it was sealed! What a thrill for you and you deserve it! Dear Tybalt."
He laughed at me in that tender indulgent way I knew so well.
I desperately wanted him to succeed.
We had a day's warning as to when the Feast of the Nile should take place. The waters were rising fast, which means that the rains in the center of Africa had been heavy that year; and it was possible to calculate the day when they would reach our neighborhood.
From early morning the banks of the river became densely populated. There were arabiyas everywhere; and some people had traveled in on camels, the bells on the necks of which tinkled gaily as had those on the necks of the Pasha's beasts. Disdainfully they walked down to the river as though they knew they were the most useful animals in Egypt. Their padded feet made it possible for them to walk with equal ease over the pavements and the sand; their wool made rugs and the hooded burnoose favored by so many Arabs, leather was made from their skin and the peculiar odor which seemed to permeate the place came from their dung which was used for fuel.
The great excitement on this day was: How would the river behave? If the floods were great the banks would be under water; if the rain had been moderate then there would be just the beautiful sight of the river's rising without the dangerous overflow.
But it was a holiday and they all loved a holiday. In the souks most of the shops were closed but there was the smell of cooking food. There were nutted Turkish Delight for sale, little flat cakes made of fried flour and honey, herish loaves and mutton or beef sizzling in a pan under a fire of camel dung and proffered on sticks so that the customer might dip them in the cauldron of steaming savory sauce. There were the lemonade sellers in their red striped gowns carrying their urn and glasses; there were stalls at which it was possible to buy glasses of mint tea. The beggars had come in from far and wide—blind beggars, legless and armless beggars, the most pitiful sight to take the joy out of a day of gaiety. They often raised their sightless eyes to heaven, their begging bowls before them, calling out for baksheesh and to Allah to bless those who did not pass the beggars by.
It was a colorful, bustling scene. Our party viewed the scene from the highest terrace of the palace; there we could see it without being part of it.
I sat beside Tybalt with Terence Gelding on the other side of him and Tabitha next to him; Evan was on my left with Theodosia.
Tybalt was saying that it looked as though the river was going to behave. It was to be hoped it would. If there was flooding it might mean that some of his workers would be commandeered to deal with disaster areas and that might mean delays.
Hadrian joined us. I thought he looked a little strained and wondered if he was finding the heat oppressive. Perhaps, I thought, there is a certain amount of tension. It has been so long and there is nothing decided yet. I knew how restive Tybalt was and that every day when he arose he was telling himself that this could be the day of great discovery, but every evening he came back to the palace disappointed.
The waters of the river looked red as they came swirling by, because they had swallowed some of the rich land as they passed through it. The people shuddered as they pointed out the redness of the water. The blood color! Was the river in a vengeful mood?
From the minaret rang out the voice of the muezzin:
"Allah is great and Mohammed his prophet."
There was an immediate silence as men and women stood where they were, heads bent in prayer.
We were silent on the terrace, and I wondered how many of those people were praying to Allah not to let the waters rise and flood the land. I believed then that although they prayed to Allah and his prophet Mohammed, many of them believed that the wrath of the gods must be placated and that when the symbol of a virgin was thrown into those seething waters the angry god who made the waters rise would be gratified and bid the river be calm and not wreak its vengeance on the poor people of the land.
We watched the procession wend its way to the river's edge. Banners were held aloft; there were inscriptions on them, whether from the Koran I did not know. Perhaps not, I thought, as this was a ceremony which had been handed down from the years before the birth of Mohammed.
In the midst of the procession was a carriage and in this sat the life-size doll which was to represent the virgin. At the river's edge, the doll would be taken from its place and thrown into the river.
I stared at the doll. It was exactly like a young girl—a yasmak hiding the lower part of the face. About the doll's wrists were silver bracelets and she was dressed in a magnificent white robe.
As the procession passed close to us for a few seconds I saw the doll clearly. I could not believe that it was not a real girl; and there was something familiar about her too.
She was lying back in her carriage seat, her eyes closed.
The procession passed on.
"What a life-like doll," said Hadrian.
"Why did they make the doll with eyes shut?" asked Evan.
"I suppose," I put in, "because she knows of her coming ordeal. It's possible that if one was going to be thrown into the river one wouldn't want to see the crowd ... all come to witness the spectacle."
"But it's a doll," protested Hadrian.
"It has to be as realistic as possible, I suppose," I said. "It reminds me of someone. I know. Little Yasmin, the girl who made my slippers."
"Of course," said Theodosia. "That's who I was trying to think of!"
"An acquaintance of yours?" asked Hadrian.
"A girl we buy things from in the souk. She's a sweet creature and speaks a little English."
"Of course," said Hadrian, "lots of people here look alike to us. As we must to them."
"You and Tybalt, for instance, don't look a bit alike and Evan is quite different from either of you and so is Terence and other people too."
"Don't be argumentative at the crucial moment. Look."
We watched. The doll was lifted high and thrown into the seething waters of the Nile.
We watched its being tossed about and finally sinking.
There was a long-drawn-out sigh. The angry god had accepted the virgin. Now we could expect the river to keep within its banks. There would be no flooding of the land. Strangely enough, there was not.
Gifts arrived at the palace—a tribute from the Pasha and an indication of his good will. For me there was an ornament—I supposed it could be made into a brooch. It was in the shape of a lotus flower in pearls and lapis lazuli and very beautiful to look at. Both Theodosia and Tabitha had received similar ornaments but mine was the most elaborate.
Tybalt laughed when he saw them. "You are obviously the favored one," he said. "That's the sacred flower of Egypt and symbolizes the awakening of the soul."
"I must write a fulsome letter of appreciation," I replied.
Theodosia showed me hers, it was feldspar and chalcedony. "I wish he hadn't sent it," she said. "I fancy there is something evil about it."