the full shock of it struck him again.
Luscious, this woman; the seducer of Caesar. She drew closer to him. It seemed the shrewdness had returned. Then her arm went up around his neck. Her fingers stroked his hair.
Warm her flesh. Dear God, the same flesh that had lain rotted and black beneath that dirty glass, thick and impenetrable as tar, that mass.
But these eyes, these deep hazel eyes with the tiny flecks of yellow in the pupils, impossible that they had sprung alive again from the dark filth. The filth of death. . . . Her lips touched his suddenly. Her mouth opened against his and he felt her tongue sliding between his teeth.
Instantly, his sex stirred. But this was madness. He was incapable. His heart, the pain in his bones, he could not possibly . . . She pushed her breasts against him. Through the cloth he felt their throbbing heat. The lace, the pearl buttons; they only made her seem all the more deliciously savage.
His vision blurred, he saw the naked bones of her fingers as she reached to force his hair back oft' his forehead, as her kiss became more insistent and her tongue plunged deep into his mouth.
Cleopatra, the lover of Caesar, of Antony, and of Ramses the Damned. He closed his arms around her waist. She went back on the lace pillows, pulling him down on top of her.
He groaned aloud, his mouth gnawing at her. God, to take her. His hand gathered up the silk skirts and plunged between her legs. Moist, hot hair mere, moist lips.
'Good, Lord Rutherford,' she said in Latin. Her hips knocked against him, against his sex bulging and ready to be free.
He opened the few buttons quickly. How many years had it been since the thing was done in such haste? But there was no question now of what was meant to happen.
'Ah, take me, Lord Rutherford!' came her hissing whisper. 'Plunge your dagger into my soul!'
And this is how I die. Not from the horrors I've beheld. But from this, this which is beyond my strength yet irresistible. He kissed her almost cruelly, his sex pumping between her damp thighs. The sweet evil laughter was bubbling out of her.
He shut his eyes as he thrust against the tight little fount.
'You cannot stay here, sire,' Samir said. 'The risk is too great. They're watching the entrance. Surely we are being followed wherever we go. And sire, they searched your room, they found the ancient coins. They may have found . . . more than that.'
'No. There was nothing else for them to find. But I must speak with you, both of you.'
'Some sort of hiding place,' Julie said. 'Where we can meet.'
'I can arrange this,' Samir said. 'But I need a couple of hours. Can you come to me outside the Great Mosque at three o'clock? I shall dress as you are dressed.'
'I'm coming with you! 'Julie insisted. 'Nothing is going to keep me away.'
'Julie, you don't know what I've done,' Ramses whispered.
'Ah, then you must tell me,' she said. 'These robes, Samir can get them for me as well as for himself.'
'Oh, how I love you,' Ramses whispered very low under his breath. 'And I need you. But for your own sake, Julie, do not-'
'Whatever it is, I stand with you.'
'Sire, leave now. There are policemen everywhere in this hotel. They will come back to question us. At the mosque. Three o'clock.'
* * *
The pain in his chest was bad, but he wasn't dying. He sat slumped in a small wooden chair near the bed. He needed a drink from the bottle in the other room, but he had no stamina to get it. It was all he could manage to slowly button his shirt.
He turned to look at her again, her smooth waxen face in sleep. But now her eyes were open. She sat up and held out the glass vial to him.
'Medicine,' she said.
'Yes, I shall get it. But you must stay here. You understand?' In Latin first he explained it. 'You are safe here. You must remain in this house.'
It seemed she did not want to do this.
'Where will you go?' she asked. She looked around her; she looked at the window beside the bed, open onto the slanting afternoon sun and a barren whitewashed wall. 'Egypt. I do not believe this is Egypt.'
'Yes, yes, my dear. And I must try to find Ramses.'
That spark again, and then the confusion, and suddenly the panic.
But he rose; he could delay this no longer. He could only hope and pray that Ramses had somehow gotten free of his captors. Surely Julie and Alex had marshalled the appropriate lawyers. Whatever the case, he must try to reach the hotel.
'Not very long, Your Majesty,' he said to her. 'I shall return with the medicine as soon as I can.'
She did not appear to trust him. She watched suspiciously as he went out of the room.
Malenka sat crouched still in die corner of the sitting room. She was shivering and she stared at him with empty, stupid eyes.
'My dear, listen to me,' he said. He found his cane by the drinks cupboard and took it in hand. 'I want you to go out with me, lock the door and stand guard.'
Did the girl understand? She was staring past him; he turned around and saw Cleopatra in the door-barefoot, her hair streaming, so that again she looked utterly savage in the proper pink silk English dress. She stared at Malenka.
The girl recoiled, whimpering. Her loathing and fear were plain.
'No, no, dearest. Come with me,' Elliott said. 'Don't be afraid, she won't hurt you.'
Malenka was too terrified to listen or obey. Her piteous cries grew louder. Cleopatra's blank face had changed to a mask of rage.
She came towards the helpless woman, who stared at the naked bones in her hand and in her foot.
'She's only a servant girl,' said the Earl, reaching out for Cleopatra's arm. She pivoted and slapped him, knocking him backwards so that he fell against the parrot's cage. As Malenka screamed in pure hysteria, the bird began to screech frantically, beating his wings against the bars.
Elliott tried to steady himself. The girl must stop screaming. This was a disaster. Cleopatra, looking from the screeching bird to the screaming woman, appeared on the verge of hysteria herself. Then she lunged at the woman, grabbing her by the throat and forcing her down on her knees as she had done to Henry only hours before.
'No, stop it.' Elliott hurled himself at her. This time he could not let it happen, and once again he felt her powerful blow knocking him yards across the room. He fell against the wall, his hand up on the plaster. Then came that sound, that unspeakable sound. The girl was dead. Cleopatra had broken her neck.
The bird had ceased its screeching. It stared with one round senseless eye into the room. Malenka lay on her back on the carpet, her head wrenched to one side at an impossible angle, her brown eyes half-closed.
Cleopatra stood staring down at her. Thoughtfully she looked at the girl. Then she said in Latin:
'She is dead.'
Elliott didn't answer. He gripped the edge of the marble-top cupboard and pulled himself to his feet. The throbbing in his chest meant nothing to him. Nothing could equal the pain in his soul.
'Why did you do it!' he whispered. Oh, but was he mad to ask such a question of this being? This thing whose brain was damaged, without doubt, as her body was damaged, beautiful though she was.
Almost innocently she stared at Elliott. Then she looked back at the dead woman.
' 'Tell me, Lord Rutherford, how did I come to be here!'' Her eyes narrowed. She approached him. In fact, she reached out and effortlessly helped him to stand upright. She picked up the walking stick and put it in his left hand. 'Where did I come from?' she asked. 'Lord Rutherford!' She bent forward, her eyes growing wide and full of terror. 'Lord Rutherford, was I dead?'
She didn't wait for him to answer; her scream came in pulses. He embraced her, and put his hand over her mouth.
'Ramses brought you here. Ramses! You called out to him. You saw him.'
'Yes!' She stood still, not struggling, merely clutching his wrist. 'Ramses was there. And when I ... when I
