by Anna Butler
Nell poked her head into the tent. “Rafe, dear.” She gave me a winsome smile, which she ramped up to incandescent when she turned to Theo. I could have lit the Brunel’s engine with it. “You aren’t going to leave me behind, are you?”
This time the speaking glance I gave her was not open to any sort of misinterpretation.
“Oh, Rafe, you can’t! Not on something this important! You know I want to do something real in archaeology—” She broke off and blew out a noisy sigh. “Am I to just wait until you come back? What am I supposed to do?”
“Your father paid a ruinous sum for your drawing lessons. I’m sure M. Archambault could use some help with replacing these tomb paintings. Two days ago, the prospect of that would have had you dancing in delight. It’s still archaeology, Nell.”
“Not the kind I want!”
“It’s all you get. I’ll take you back home, if you like, when all this is over.”
She looked at Theo, but he avoided her gaze. No recourse there, I was pleased to see. Good for him, establishing some authority. Nell’s sigh rivalled the desert winds.
I attempted a smile. “Don’t sigh in that tone of voice. I won’t change my mind.”
Good Lord, but she was all Stravaigor. My little joke fell flatter than a pancake on Shrove Tuesday. She was all hard face, narrowed eyes, and a thin-lipped mouth clenched tight as a steel trap.
“You do take after our father, after all,” I said.
That didn’t improve matters. The steel trap opened to release so much frost, it was a wonder the desert didn’t freeze over. “I’ll try to resign myself to a woman’s usual lot of being left behind while the men go off and have all the fun.” An audible intake of air through flared nostrils. “I left my small valise on the aeroship. I’ll need it.”
“You’d better go and fetch it. And be quick. We’ll be leaving soon.”
All I got was a terse nod and a flounce so energetic the tent flaps rattled in the wake of her exit.
Theo pasted on a regretful expression but made no protest.
Archambault’s mouth, though, was twitching as if with the most uncontrollable of tics. “I may perhaps try that method with Marie Josèphe.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And they say the French are the masters of the arts of love. What works on little sisters is unlikely to have the same effect on cousins.”
His ears reddened again, and muttering something in French so idiomatic it made me want to blush, he bustled out to put his copied diagrams somewhere safe. He passed Reitz on the way.
Reitz stood in the doorway, holding back the canvas flap with one hand. “May I come in?”
I glanced at Theo, who nodded and put the last of the papers into the tin trunk. He snapped the lid shut with a business-like finality.
“Of course.” I beckoned Reitz in. Not so much a joyful come-hither-and-join-us invitation as a reluctant if-you-really-must sort of gesture.
Reitz got the message, I fancied. “Lancaster, I do want to help if I can. I like Ned, you know. We’ve been friends since his first season with Flinders Petrie. We have worked together several times since then.”
I held up a hand to stop him and went to the tent door. Tatlock was loitering about outside, trying to look as if he liked being on guard duty outside a tent in the Aegyptian desert. The winter sun was warm enough to redden his face. “Keep everyone away for a few minutes, will you, Tatlock? We don’t want to be disturbed.”
He raised a hand in acknowledgement.
“And don’t listen in.”
His scowl was magnificent.
When I turned back, Reitz was sitting at the table, eyeing the tin trunk with interest but ostentatiously keeping his hands to himself, having linked them and rested them on the tabletop. Theo, so nonchalant I was hard put to it not to grin, slid the trunk over to his own side of the table and smiled at Reitz over the top of it.
I resumed my seat. “That’s your sole reason for wanting to accompany us?”
“I admit to being intrigued by the Thoth mystery, too.”
I supposed he was trying to convey an endearing honesty about his motives. “You know, your government might consider your joining with us an act of betrayal.”
“I don’t think I am betraying our national telegraph service by going with you to help find Ned. And that is all my king and his government are responsible for these days, along with the post office and railways. The rest was taken by the Kaiser and the Stadtschloss when we were pushed into unification with the Empire.”
“Von Meiningen may not agree.”
“Another verdammt Prussian.” Reitz let out a noisy breath that appeared to be half frustration, half simmering anger. “You are the Prussians in your world, Rafe, so I do not expect you to understand. Not every one of Germany’s kingdoms welcomed being swallowed into the new Empire and left with no real power over anything other than trivialities. The price of unity was high.” He scowled. “My father had an estate near Donnauschingen. He fell in battle at Wörth in ’70, against the French. I was six. Like the Kaiser, I had an English mother. Unlike him, I loved mine. She was ‘un-Germanic’ and we lost the landholding. It was ceded to my uncle, a man with strong loyalties to Prussia. My mother had no recourse, no means of restitution.”
“Nor for you as his heir?”
“I was deemed too polluted with English blood.” He shook his head. “Well, in the end I am content. Thanks to the generosity of my English grandfather, I am a very good archaeologist. I would make a damn poor farmer.”
Theo looked rather quizzical. “Forgive me, but you don’t sound as if you were raised in England.” He added, in haste, “Although you speak such very good English.”
“I remained in Württemberg with my mother.” Reitz managed a tight smile that looked more like a reaction to being jabbed with a needle than good humour. “We lived in the village beside the estate. She refused to leave. She said she would be my uncle’s conscience, reminding him always that he was the usurper. It did not work, of course, but she was relentless. Every day until that of her death, she stared my uncle in the face and called him faithless.” The smile twisted into something closer to rictus. “He took to driving out of the back gate to try and avoid her.”
“An indomitable Englishwoman, then,” I said.
Reitz nodded, but for a moment seemed unable to speak through his strong emotion. His hard swallow was visible. “Ja. She was.”
“This explains why you hate the Prussians and why the Gallowglass—Ned’s father—gave Theo your name as one of the Imperium’s agents in Germany?”
Reitz stiffened, his eyes widening. “I am not an agent for your Imperium—”
I seemed to be expending a lot of my energy that day giving people glances heavy with significance. This one made Reitz grimace and push back from the table to slouch in his chair.
“I am not a spy. Now and then I have been able to help with information about the democratic party in our parliament. Which I support!” He folded his arms across his chest, but in his slumped position, it was defensive rather than intimidating. “It is nothing of significance.”
The German Empire would probably beg to differ. But that wasn’t my problem.
“Well, that makes all right then, I suppose. Don’t deny it too much. It’s weighing in the balance to your advantage at the moment.”
He winced. “I want to help. Look, Ned and I are friends, Lancaster, and have been for more than ten years. You must understand I would wish to help ensure he is safe.”
I responded with a nod.
“I am the most senior archaeologist available to you. Lansbach is not well, I think, and Archambault is too old. Everyone is hunting some ancient artefact. You may need my skills.”
“I might.” But I was not encouraging.
He threw up his arms. “Verdammt! Lancaster, this thing the Kaiser wants, this artefact connected to the mechanism from Antikythera, must be important. He is expending considerable resources to find it, and treating it as
so great a secret even Von Meiningen knows nothing about it. This is something known only to those very close to the Kaiser, the most innermost of his inner circle. It has to be of immense significance to him—so significant, so momentous, he is prepared to risk relations with your Imperium. Perhaps even war. After all, Ned is important in the Imperium. He is not just another Aegyptologist. But it seems the Kaiser does not care about offending the Gallowglass or your king. All he cares about is the artefact he has sent Altenfeld to take. You must see what this means. This is not some ordinary curio he can pretend has mystical symbolism. It has to be bigger than that. It could be the find of the century. I cannot miss that! Let me come.”
Well-reasoned, and that last appeal rang with truth and honesty, though I didn’t doubt his friendship for Ned. Archaeology called Reitz’s name more loudly, that was all.
“I’m far more leery about leaving you behind than I am taking you with us, so I can pull your teeth if I need to.” I glanced at Theo, who nodded, while Reitz winced again and covered his mouth with his hand. “Yes, you can come. But I won’t hesitate to dump you somewhere in the wilderness if you’re playing some sort of shady game, and my man Tatlock will be keeping his beady little eyes on you.”
“As will every Gallowglass guard,” Theo said. “I warn you now, Herr Reitz, if it comes to a choice between you and my brother, your link to the Imperium won’t save you. I won’t hesitate for an instant.”
Good for Theo! He was a true chip off the old block. The Gallowglass hadn’t just sent him along on the off-chance I might need an accountant with no sense of geography.
I picked up the trunk. It was an inconvenient size, but didn’t weigh much. “Time to go.”
“Danke schön, Lancaster, Herr Winter. You will not regret this.”
I wasn’t so sure. He’d have to work hard before I trusted him, this supposedly patriotic German who was, in effect, betraying his country. Damned hard.
We set off a few minutes before noon.
Archambault joined his colleagues to see us on our way, but neither Nell nor Madame Stravaigor appeared. I’d have been flabbergasted if Madame had taken the trouble to bid us farewell, but had thought to see Nell. So had Theo, if his rather down-in-the-mouth expression was anything to go by.
Potts, the Stravaigor guard, had kept a desultory eye on the Brunel while we pottered about gawking at tomb paintings and consorting with German spies. He nodded at me as I passed him, and quaked in his boots when Tatlock stumped by.
I paused and turned back. “Have you seen Miss Eleanor, Potts?”
“Not ten minutes ago, sir.”
“Did she have her valise with her?”
“She did, sir. I gave her a hand with it.”
“Good. She’ll need it.” I dismissed him—he and Glover were remaining in Hermopolis to guard Nell and her mother—and we made our way onto the ship with our collection of House guards and the aforementioned German spy. I managed a grin for Theo’s sake when he slid into the co-pilot’s seat beside me. “I suspect she’s sulking in her tent in the approved Achillean fashion. I’ll make it up to her when we get back.”
Theo looked regretful. But not half as regretful as I was when we landed at the tiny aerostrip south of Aswan three hours later and Nell emerged from her hiding place in the small two-seater in the hold, and I realised I hadn’t confirmed with Potts in which exact direction she’d been lugging her valise.
Stravaigor to the core, that one. Theo was in for a merry old dance. I almost felt sorry for him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Potts isn’t the brightest cold-cathode display tube in the lighting box.” It had taken me some considerable time to calm down. “But then, since I didn’t think to ask him to confirm you were taking your case out of the Brunel and not sneaking it in, I’m not glowing too brightly myself right now.”
Nell perched on the edge of the co-pilot’s chair, which Theo had vacated for her, meek and demure throughout the furious trimming I’d given her in which I’d questioned her honesty, trustworthiness, common sense, and womanly modesty. The subdued manner was more than enough to set every nerve quivering, Nell and “demure” being complete strangers.
“I’m sorry to have misled you, Rafe—”
“No, you aren’t.”
She tightened her mouth and turned her gaze to her hands resting in her lap.
I tapped the top of her head to get her attention. “Does anyone know where you are, or should I expect panicked calls from Tom Causton round about now?”
“Maman knows. She has her own ideas about why I wanted to go with you.” Nell blushed, glancing sidelong at Theo. “It was easiest just to agree with her.”
I could believe Nell was actress enough to look innocent and squeeze out a tear or two to help her case, but I never heard that even the great Sarah Bernhardt could blush on demand. So, on top of her thirst to do some “real” archaeology, at least one motive for her stowing away was that she returned Theo’s interest, was it? Useful to my long-term plans for the House, of course, but right at that moment I wanted to wring her neck. Trying to decide what we would do with her in the short-term had me pulling on my hair.
“I’m sure she’s being very French about it.” I glanced at Theo, but I suspected he’d noticed the blush too, because he appeared to be a loathsome combination of delighted and besotted. No help there. “You cannot go with us. I’m going to leave you in Aswan.”
Nell was tart as lemons. “Alone? Without a chaperone?”
I answered with a sneer. She was right. It was both improper and dangerous.
Oh hell! She was a menace and a blasted nuisance!
I turned to the Marconi and fired it up. Tom Causton was astonished (“I thought she was resting in her tent!”) and chagrined (“Jiminy, Rafe, I’m sorry! What are you going to do?”), not to mention understanding (“I’d be fighting the urge to strangle her, too.”), which was comforting.
“I don’t suppose I have any choice but to take her with us.” I glared at her to underline how displeased I was. She perked up, her eyes regaining their sparkle. It was just as dangerous as leaving her in Aswan, but at least I’d have all the Gallowglass guards to help ensure her safety. “I can’t bring her back because I’m not prepared to lose another day in going after Ned. I can’t leave her here alone, and I don’t have a guard to spare to leave in Aswan with her. Tell Madame Stravaigor I will speak to her about this when I do get back— No, tell her the First Heir will be speaking to her about this.”
Nell might as well have said “Pfft!” and be done with it. Her expression spoke volumes about how much her mother would care about annoying me. She waited until I signed off the Marconi before offering a meek thank you, but she was almost waltzing in her seat with satisfaction.
Theo offered a mild remonstrance. Too mild in the circumstances. “It’s quite badly done of you, Miss Lancaster. This could be awfully dangerous for a lady.”
She pursed her lips. “Mr Winter, do you have any idea at all how tedious it is being told, all your life, you can’t do something because you’re not a man? How caged up I am because I’m female?”
“Nevertheless,” Theo said, finding his backbone somewhere, “this is a hazardous venture.” He gentled his voice into a tone of sweet reason. “You don’t appreciate all the ramifications, how chancy this could be. You must understand our reluctance to risk your safety! No man wants to place the lady he… respects in difficult situations.”
He should have saved his breath to cool his porridge. I’d been right about all that meekness being an act.
“It’s dangerous for you, too, isn’t it?”
“But I’m a man. It’s not the same. This isn’t at all the sort of place for a lady. ”
“You’re an accountant.” Nell hit with all the pointed speed of a fencing rapier, jabbing her point home. Theo looked shocked, as if he’d reached for a kitten while making soothing, petting noises and found himself being mauled by a tiger. “You are no more used to wild
adventures chasing after whatever it is your brother is chasing after, than I am. Why should it be acceptable for you to go and not me?”
Theo made a motion seeming to suggest he was going to pat her hand. Luckily for him—because I suspect if he had, he’d be drawing back a bloody stump—he refrained. Instead the poor benighted fool said, “The sort of venture we are facing is far too taxing for a lady’s delicate sensibilities.”
Nell let out the sort of gasp I’d expect of a lady whose delicate sensibility had been sharply taxed by, say, the sudden constriction of her corset when she least expected it.
“Oh, my giddy aunt! Men!” She jumped up from her seat, waving her arms around with such passion that Theo, learning a swift sharp lesson in the notion of discretion being infinitely safer than valour, fell back to dodge those flailing hands. “The instant I get home, I’m going to join the biggest women’s suffrage meeting I can find!” A glare fierce enough to melt the deserts to glass seared poor Theo. “I’ll march. I’ll protest. Votes for women!”
Günter Reitz’s chuckle caught my attention. He leaned against the door stanchion, enjoying the spectacle. Neither Theo nor I had sufficient Arabic for investigation purposes, so I’d sent Reitz, who did—along with Banger Bill, who spoke it well enough to keep tabs on Reitz—to make some initial inquiries while Theo and I endeavoured to bring Nell to an acknowledgement of her sins. I hoped they’d had more success than us. I pushed Nell back into her seat and bade her hold her tongue for a few minutes while Reitz reported back. I was rather surprised when she did. She seethed visibly, casting both Theo and me ireful glances, and sat tapping one foot and taking in sharp breaths of air—all the better, I expected, for further fulmination as soon as she could get a word in. But at least she sat and stayed quiet.
Reitz nodded at me. “This is a tiny aeroport.”
“It’s principally for Aegyptian and British military flights.”
