Curse of the Kings

by Виктория Холт

I heard the whispers behind me.

  "What a pity!"

  "What bad luck!"

  "Not wedding weather by any means."

  A gnome-like creature came walking up from the graveyard. As it approached I saw that it was Mr. Pegger, bent double with a sack, split down one side, over his head to keep him dry. He carried a spade to which the brown earth still clung. So he had been digging somebody's grave, and was, I supposed, coming to the porch for shelter until the downpour was over.

  When he saw us he pulled up short; he pushed the sack farther back and his fanatical eyes took in Tybalt and me in our wedding clothes.

  He looked straight at me. "No good'ull come of such indecent haste," he said. "It's ungodly."

  Then he nodded and walked past the porch with the self-righteous air of one determined to do his duty however unpleasant.

  "Who on earth is that old fool?" said Tybalt.

  "It's Mr. Pegger, the gravedigger."

  "He's impertinent."

  "Well, you see he knew me as a child and no doubt thinks I'm still one."

  "He objects to your marriage."

  I heard Theodosia whisper: "Oh, Evan, how unpleasant. It's like an ... omen."

  I did not answer. I felt suddenly angry with all these people who for some ridiculous reason had decided that there was something strange about my marriage to Tybalt.

  I looked up at the lowering sky and I seemed to hear Sarah Sloper's reedy voice: "Happy be the bride the sun shines on."

  After a few minutes the rain stopped and we were able to pick our way across the grass to the vicarage.

  There was the familiar drawing room decked out with chrysanthemums of all shades and starry Michaelmas daisies. A table had been set up at one end of the room and on this was a wedding cake and champagne.

  I cut the cake with Tybalt's help; everyone applauded and the unpleasant incident in the porch was temporarily forgotten.

  Hadrian made a witty speech and Tybalt responded very briefly. I kept saying to myself: "This is the supreme moment of my life." Perhaps I said it a little too vehemently. I could not forget Mr. Pegger's eyes peering at us in that fanatical way from under that absurd sack. The rain had started again in a heavy downpour which made itself heard.

  Theodosia was beside me. "Oh, Judith," she said, "I'm so glad we're sisters. Here you are marrying Tybalt and this is what they wanted for me. So Father got his wish that his daughter marry Tybalt. Hasn't it turned out wonderfully?" She was gazing across the room at Evan who was talking to Tabitha. "I'm so grateful to you . . ."

  "Grateful . . . ?"

  She floundered a little. Theodosia had never been able to express her thoughts gracefully and often landed in a conversational morass from which she found it difficult to extricate herself.

  "Well, for marrying Tybalt and making it all come right so that I need not have any conscience about not pleasing Father ... and all that."

  She made it sound as though by marrying Tybalt I had conferred some blessing on all those who had been saved from him!

  "I'm sure you'll be very happy," she said comfortingly. "You always knew so much about archaeology. It's a struggle for me to keep up with Evan, but he says don't worry. He's perfectly satisfied with me as I am."

  "You're very happy, Theodosia?"

  "Oh . . . blissfully. That's why I'm so . . ." She stopped.

  "Grateful to me for marrying Tybalt and making it all work out smoothly. I can assure you I didn't marry him for that reason."

  Sabina joined us.

  "Isn't this fun. The three of us together. And now we're all married. Judith, do you like the flowers? Miss Crewe arranged them. Most of them came from her garden. Green fingers, you know. And she always makes such a success of the decorations in the church. And here we all are together. Do you remember how we used to talk in the schoolroom? Of course dramatic things would happen to Judith. They always did, didn't they? Or perhaps you made it sound dramatic and then you did turn out to be Sir Ralph's daughter ... Wrong side of the blanket of course . . . but that makes it more exciting. And now you've got Tybalt. Doesn't he look wonderful? Like a Roman god or something . . . He was always different from everybody else . . . and so are you, Judith . . . in a way. But we're sisters now, Judith. And you're Theodosia's sister. As I say it is wonderful!"

  She gazed at Tybalt with that adoration I had seen so many times before.

  "Fancy Tybalt's being a bridegroom! We always thought he would never marry! He's married to all that nonsense, Nanny Tester says. 'Like your father ought to have been.' I used to point out to her that if Papa had married all that nonsense I wouldn't have been here nor would Tybalt because archaeology, wonderful as Papa and Tybalt seem to find it, does not produce people, living ones anyway. Only mummies perhaps. Oh, do you remember the day when you dressed up as a mummy? What a day that was! We thought you'd killed Theodosia."

  They were all laughing. I knew that Sabina would restore my spirits.

  "And you said Tybalt stooped and wore spectacles and when you saw him you were struck dumb. You adored him from that moment. Oh yes you did, you can't deny it."

  "I'm making no attempt to," I said.

  "And now you're married to him. Your dreams have come true. Isn't that a wonderful fairy tale ending?"

  "It's not an ending," said Theodosia soberly. "It's really a beginning. Evan is so pleased because he's been invited to join the expedition."

  "Has he really?" cried Sabina. "That's a great honor. When he's away you must come and stay."

  "I'm going with him," declared Theodosia fiercely. "You don't think I'd let Evan go without me."

  "Has Tybalt said you may? Papa never liked wives around. He said they cluttered and distracted, unless they were workers themselves and quite a lot of them are . . . but you're not, Theodosia. So Tybalt has said you may! I daresay that as he's now a married man himself he has sympathy for others. You'll be company for Judith. Tabitha's going. Of course she's very knowledgeable. There she is talking to Tybalt now. I'll bet you anything you like they're talking about Egypt. Tabitha's beautiful, don't you think? She always seems to wear the right things. Elegance I suppose. Different from me. That silver grey now . . . It's just right! You'll have to be careful, Judith," she added playfully. "I was surprised that you allowed Tybalt to go off with her to Dorset. Oh I know you had to stay behind, but she's young really. About a year, possibly two years older than Tybalt, that's all. Of course she is always so quiet, so restrained, but it's the quiet ones you have to be wary of, so they say. Oh, Judith, what a way to talk to a bride on her wedding day.

  You're quite disturbed, I believe. As if I meant it. Tybalt will be the most faithful husband in the world! He's too busy anyway to be anything else. The wonder is that he married at all. I'm sure you're going to be wonderfully happy. Your being interested in his world and all that and quite rich so there won't be money problems and Sir Ralph leaving all that money to archaeological research. Wasn't that wonderful! You've married the most wonderful man in the world with one exception of course. But even darling Oliver isn't grand and distinguished like Tybalt . . . although he's more comfortable and I wouldn't change him for anyone in the world . . ."

  "Oh doesn't she run on," I said to Theodosia. "No one else gets a chance."

  "It's revenge for your domineering attitude in the schoolroom and you're only so silent because it's your wedding day. If you weren't thinking of Tybalt, you would never have allowed me to have the floor for so long."

  "Trust you to make the most of your opportunities. Look, here's Hadrian."

  "Hello," said Hadrian. "A family gathering. I must join it."

  "We were talking about the expedition," said Sabina. "Among other things."

  "Who isn't?"

  "Did you know Evan and Theodosia are coming?" I asked.

  "I had heard there was a possibility. We shall all be together ... all except you, Sabina, and your Oliver."

  "Oliver has the church and parish . . . besides, he's a parson no
t an archaeologist."

  "So you're going too, Hadrian."

  "It's a great concession. Gives me a chance to escape my creditors."

  "You are always talking about money."

  "I've told you before I'm not rich enough to ignore it."

  "Nonsense," I said.

  "And now, Judith, you've joined the band of plutocrats. Well, it will be good experience for us, Tybalt tells me. We'll have to keep together in case this irate god rises from his lair to strike us."

  "Do gods have lairs?" asked Sabina. "I thought that was foxes. There's a big red one raiding Brent's Farm. Farmer Brent lies in wait with a shot gun."

  "Stop her someone," said Hadrian, "before she flies off at a tangent."

  "Yes," I said, "we don't want to hear about foxes. The expedition is of much greater interest. I'm so looking forward to it. It'll soon be time to leave for Egypt."

  "Which is the reason for the hasty wedding," said Hadrian. "What did you think of the weird character in the porch?"

  "It was only old Pegger."

  "Talk about a prophet of doom. He couldn't have appeared at a less appropriate moment ... or from his point of view I suppose a more appropriate one. He seemed so delighted to be the harbinger of misfortune."

  "I wish everyone would stop hinting at misfortune," I complained. "It's most unsuitable."

  "Of course it is," agreed Hadrian, "and here comes your reverend husband, Sabina. He'll probably say a blessing or exorcise the evil spirits conjured up by that old ghoul in the porch."

  "He'll do no such thing," said Sabina, slipping her arm through Oliver's as he came up.

  "Just in time," said Hadrian, "to prevent this inconsequential wife of yours from giving a dissertation on the duties of a parish priest and where that might lead to Heaven— and Sabina—only knows. I'm going to take the bride away from you for a cozy tete-a-tete."

  We stood alone in a corner and he looked at me shaking his head. "Well, well, Judith, this is so sudden."

  "Not you too," I protested.

  "Oh I don't mean it as old Pegger did. I mean coming into a fortune and marrying at the batting of an eyelid or the twinkling of an eye—to keep the metaphors facial."

  I laughed at him. Hadrian always restored my spirits.

  "Had I known that you had inherited a fortune I would have married you myself."

  "What a lost opportunity!" I mocked.

  "My life is full of them. Seriously, who would have thought that the old man would have left you half his fortune. My pittance was a bit of a blow."

  "Why, Hadrian, it's a pleasant income, and is in addition to what you will earn in your profession."

  "Affluence!" he murmured. "Tybalt is a lucky devil. You and all that money. And there's what my uncle left to the Cause."

  "How I wish I could stop people talking about money for a few moments."

  "It's money that makes the world go round ... or is that love? And lucky Judith to have both!"

  "I can see my aunts making frantic signs."

  "I suppose it's time for you to depart."

  "Why yes, the carriage will be taking us to the station in less than an hour. And I have to change."

  Dorcas came hurrying up. "Judith, do you realize what the time is?"

  "I was just mentioning it to Hadrian."

  "I think it is time you changed."

  I slipped away with Dorcas and Alison and we went to the room which Sabina had set aside for me. There hung my silver grey grosgrain coat and the skirt of the same material and the white blouse with many frills and the little grey velvet bow at the neck.

  Silver grey. So elegant. Yes, when worn by a woman like Tabitha.

  "You look lovely," cooed Dorcas.

  "That's because you see me through the eyes of love," I said.

  "There'll be someone else who will be looking at you in the same way," said Alison quickly. There was an almost imperceptible pause before she added: "We hope."

  I went out to the porch. The carriage was there and Tybalt was waiting for me.

  Everyone crowded round; the horse was whipped up. Tybalt and I had started on our honeymoon.

  What shall I say of my honeymoon? That it fell short of my expectations? At first it was wonderful and the wonder lasted for two nights and a day. Then Tybalt was all mine. We were very close during that time. We had broken our journey to Dorset and spent the night, the following day and the next night at a little inn in the heart of the Moor.

  "Before we join the Dig," he told me, "I thought we should have this little respite."

  "It's a wonderful idea," I told him.

  "I thought you were so eager to see this mosaic pavement they've discovered?"

  "I'm more eager to be alone with you."

  My frank admission of my devotion amused him and at the same time I fancied made him rather uneasy. Again he stressed that he lacked my powers of expression.

  "You must not think, Judith," he said, "that because I do not constantly profess my love for you that it isn't there. I find it difficult to speak easily of what I feel most deeply."

  That satisfied me.

  I shall never forget the inn in the little moorland village. The sign creaking just outside our window—a gabled one, for the inn was three hundred years old; the sound of the waterfall less than half a mile away sending its sparkling water over the craggy boulders and the big feather bed in which we lay together.

  There was a fire burning in the grate and as I watched the flickering shadows on the wallpaper—great red roses— and Tybalt's arms were about me, I was completely happy.

  Breakfast was served to us in the old inn parlor with the brass and pewter on the shelves and hams hanging from the rafters. Hot coffee, bread fresh from the oven, ham and eggs from the nearby farm, scones and homemade strawberry jam with a basin of Devonshire cream the color of buttercups. And Tybalt sitting opposite me, watching me with that look almost of wonder in his eyes. If ever I was beautiful in my life I was beautiful on that morning.

  After breakfast we went out onto the moors and walked for miles over the short spring turf. The innkeeper's wife had packed a little hamper for us and we picknicked by a tiny trickling stream. We saw the wild moorland ponies, too scared to come near us; and the only human beings we encountered on that day were a man driving a cartload of apples and pears who raised his whip to us and called a greeting, and another on horseback who did the same. A happy idyllic day and then back to the delicious duckling and green peas and afterwards the cozy bedroom and the flickering fire.

  The next day we caught the train to Dorset.

  Of course I was fascinated by the Roman site, but I wanted only one thing in my life at that time and that was to love and be loved by Tybalt. The hotel at which we stayed was full of people who were with the working party, which made it rather different from our Dartmoor haven. I was proud of the respect with which Tybalt was greeted and, although it was brought home to me that I was an amateur among professionals and I was constantly bewildered by technicalities, I was as eager as ever to learn —a fact which delighted my husband.

  The day after we reached the hotel, Terence Gelding, Tybalt's best man, arrived. He was tall and rather lean with the same serious and dedicated expression I had noticed among so many of Tybalt's associates. Rather aloof, he seemed a little nervous of me, and I imagined he was not altogether pleased about Tybalt's marriage. When I mentioned this to Tybalt he laughed.

  "You have such odd fancies, Judith," he said; and I remembered how often Alison and Dorcas had said the same of me. "Terence Gelding is a first-class worker, trustworthy too, reliable. Just the kind of man I like to work with me."

  He and Terence Gelding would talk animatedly for long periods, and try as I might to follow their conversation it was not always easy.

  When there was a possibility that an amphitheatre may have existed close to the site the excitement was great and a party went out to examine certain finds which might have proved an indication that this was correct.
I was not invited to go.

  Tybalt was apologetic.

  "You see, Judith," he explained, "this is a professional affair. If I took you, others would expect to take people."

  I understood and I determined that in a very short time I should have learned so much that I would be considered worthy to join in on such occasions.

  Tybalt kissed me tenderly before leaving. "I'll be back in a few hours. What will you do while I'm away?"

  "Read a book I've seen here dealing with Roman remains. Very soon I'm going to be as knowledgeable as you are."

  That made him laugh.

  I spent the day alone. I would have to be prepared for this sort of occasion, I reminded myself. But, interested as I was in this absorbing subject, I was a bride on her honeymoon, and an early Roman floor, even if it was a geometric mosaic, could not really compare with the springs and boulders of Dartmoor.

  After that he was often at the site with the workers. Sometimes I went with him. I talked to the more humble members of the party; I studied maps; I even did a little digging as I had in Carter's Meadow. I watched first-aid methods in the restoration of a plaque on which was engraved the head of a Caesar. I was fascinated—but I longed to be alone with Tybalt.

  We were two weeks on the Roman site. I believe Tybalt was reluctant to leave. On our last evening he spent several hours closeted with the director of the expedition. I was in bed when he came in. It was just after midnight.

  He sat on the bed, his eyes shining.

  "It's almost certain that there's an amphitheatre," he said. "What a discovery! I think this is going to be one of the most exciting sites in England. Professor Brownlea can't stop talking of his luck. Do you know they've found a plaque with a head engraved. If they can discover whose, it will be a great find."

  "I know," I said, "I've seen it being pieced together."

  "Unfortunately there is quite a bit missing. But, of course, the floor mosaics are most exciting. I would place the date of the black and white at round about 74 a.d."

  "I'm sure you'd be right, Tybalt."

  "Oh, but one can't be sure . . . not unless there is absolute proof. Why are you smiling?"

  "Was I?" I held out my arms to him. "Perhaps because I was thinking that there are exciting things in life other than Roman remains."