'Don't forget to set the alarm,' she warned him, and then to Royan, 'He
can be so absent-minded when he is off on one of his hobby-horses.' Her
fondness towards her employer was obviously that of an indulgent aunt.
'You've given me enough orders for one day. Off you go,' Nicholas
grinned, as he turned back to Royan. 'Can't let you go without showing
you something that Duraid.'was in on with me. Can you stay for a few
minutes longer?' She nodded and he reached out as if to take her arm,
and then dropped his hand. In the Arab world it is insulting to touch a
woman, even in such a casual manner. She was aware of the courtesy, and
she warmed to his good manners and easy style a little more.
He led her out of the exhibition halls through a door marked 'Private.
Staff Only', and down a long corridor to the room at the end.
The inner sanctum.' He ushered her in. 'Excuse the mess'. I must really
get around to tidying up in here one of these years. My wife used to-'
He broke off abruptly, and he glanced at the silver-framed photograph of
a family group on his desk. Nicholas and a beautiful dark-haired woman
sat on a picnic rug under the spreading branches of an oak. There were
two little girls with them and the family resemblance to the mother was
strong in both of them. The youngest child sat on Nicholas's lap while
the elder girl stood behind them, holding the reins of her Shetland
pony. Royan glanced sideways at him and saw the devastating sorrow in
his eyes.
So as not to embarrass him she looked around the rest of the room, which
was obviously his study and workshop.
It was spacious and comfortable, a man's room, but it illustrated the
contradictions of his character - the bookish scholar set against the
man of action. Amongst the muddle of books and museum specimens lay
fishing reels and a Hardy split cane salmon rod. On a row of wall hooks
hung a Barbour jacket, a canvas shotgun slip and a leather cartridge bag
embossed with the initials ..-.
She recognized some of the framed pictures on the walls. They were
original nineteenth-century watercolours by the Scottish traveller David
Roberts, and others by Vivant Denon who had accompanied Napoleon's
L'armie de I'Orient to Egypt. They were fascinating views of the
monuments drawn before the excavations and restorations of more modern
times.
Nicholas went to the fireplace and threw a log on the fading coals. He
kicked it until it flared up brightly and then beckoned her to stand in
front of the floor-to-ceiling curtains that covered half of one wall.
With a conjuror's flourish he pulled the tasselled cord that opened the
curtains and exclaimed with satisfaction, '
'What do you make of that, then?'
She studied the magnificent has-relief frieze that was mounted on the
wall. The detail was beautiful and the rendition magnificent, but she
did not let her admiration show. Instead she gave her opinion in offhand
tones.
'Sixth King of the Amorite dynasty, Hammurabi, about 1780 Bc,' she said,
pretending to study the finely chiselled features of the ancient monarch
before she went on, 'Yes, probably from his palace site south-west of
the ziggurat at Ashur. There should have been a pair of these friezes.
