Ramses the Damned

by Anne Rice

  “Oh, I know, there’s talk of war everywhere—” said Ramses.

  “Talk?” Elliott interrupted. “My dear man, England is at war with Germany. The declaration was made an hour and a half ago! Have you no wireless here? Don’t you realize what’s been going on?”

  “War with Germany?” Ramses sank down in the chair.

  “Yes, war with Germany. And all of Europe is in this war. God knows what will happen next.”

  Indeed, they had been in another world, hadn’t they, a world of their pressing concerns. Ramses had seen a newspaper or two in the last few days but utterly ignored them, and only now did all the talk of war come back to him with the dizzying ultimatums and the names of the different countries involved.

  “Come, tell us all about it as we eat and drink,” Ramses pressed.

  Elliott escorted Julie to her chair and then sat down between them, facing the front of the house. He was dressed in a rather prim linen shirt and tie and gray wool coat, the basic uniform of males today. And his hair had recently been trimmed quite short and very neatly groomed. He looked as always like a young man with an older man’s character, his blue eyes quick and curious and generous as he looked at his companions. But a great sadness overshadowed him. And Ramses knew it was this war.

  “Perhaps this war will be over very soon,” said Elliott. “But I fear it won’t be. I fear the future.” He went on to explain the conflicts that had led to the declaration of war.

  He spoke quietly for some minutes.

  Ramses couldn’t follow it. All he could think was: How can this magnificent modern world enter into war? How can these modern people who know so much, who’ve come so far, suddenly be on the attack against one another? It was unfathomable to him.

  He contemplated the power of modern weaponry, guns large and small. He contemplated a world of flying machines and telephones and giant metal ships—at war. It was too grim, too dreadful.

  At last Elliott fell silent.

  “Eat,” said Ramses. “I can see that you’re famished. I know the telltale signs.” He offered a plate of sliced meats to the earl, and a pot of sauce with it, and the silver tray of freshly sliced bread.

  The earl obeyed, listlessly, as if the food were merely fuel. He drank deeply of the chilled white wine, and sat back in his chair, eyes moving from Julie to Ramses and then back again. Slowly, the natural color returned to his cheeks. And his eyes began to move over the banquet before him. He reached for the plate of glistening oysters. And Ramses filled his glass again.

  They all enjoyed the feast. Their hunger was too great for them not to enjoy it. Ramses devoured the cold lobster, dipping the morsels of pure white meat into different sauces, and consumed whole slices of bread. The wine, yes, the wine, again and again and that flush of intoxication which was gone in an instant. He set upon the pastries with the same fervor, only glancing up now and then to see his companions dining with the same obvious pleasure. And they were just a small family, then, the three of them, united with their secret, united in their hunger, united in this pleasure which would soon leave them wanting more.

  “I’ve seen my wife,” Elliott said. “Don’t worry. It was a very guarded meeting. I protected her as best I could from the robust health I enjoy now.”

  “I’m glad you saw her,” said Julie.

  “I gave her a hundred trivial reassurances and a hundred falsehoods as to my future travels,” said Elliott. “To tell you the truth, I think she was quite glad to see me going off again. I have always been a demanding man.”

  “You’ve provided for her splendidly,” said Julie. “She has come into her own in a wholly new way.”

  “Yes,” said Elliott. “A great burden has been lifted from her, the burden of a chronically melancholy and unloving husband who was at his best a wounded older brother always in need of comfort and allowances….”

  “Don’t torture yourself,” said Julie. “Don’t look back. You were always good to Edith. But you’re right, she’s happy now.”

  Elliott nodded. He drank more of his wine, drank it freely as if it were water.

  “No doubt she thinks I have a lover,” said Elliott. “She said something to the effect that she admired my courage to leave London behind.” He laughed. “And no doubt she’ll take a lover of her own very soon. The revenues from my investments are increasing.” He glanced at Ramses. “What will happen to my investments now with this war, I can’t know. But I’ve deposited capital in a number of American banks as well as European ones.”

  “Wise,” said Julie. She watched quietly as Ramses drew a folded sheet of paper from his coat and handed it to Elliott.

  “Another place in Africa,” said Ramses. “Where you should purchase land as soon as you can. Wait six months, perhaps longer. Then search for the old mines in the jungles. You’ll find them.”

  “You’re too kind to me,” said Elliott. “But with this war, you should be doing these things yourself.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” said Ramses. “When we first returned to London, I met with Julie’s sage advisors. Of course they had many reservations. But many ventures have been arranged. Can any war affect the value of diamonds or gold?”

  “What of Alex?” asked Julie. “Did you see him?”

  “No,” said Elliott. “Couldn’t take the risk with those young eyes that would see what Edith’s eyes can’t see. But I’ve watched him from afar. And I know that he’s gone off with the mysterious madwoman from Cairo. I understand now what Edith does not understand and must never understand. Alex’s life is poisoned with knowledge of the elixir, and of us.”

  “Yes, this is all true,” said Julie. Quickly she recounted all she knew of Alex’s self-willed exile. “But you cannot know what Cleopatra has endured, what she’s become.”

  Julie told him the story, the whole story, of Saqnos and Bektaten and the gruesome deaths of the fracti at the engagement party. She described the strangle lily and its power, and the temperament of the ancient queen who possessed this secret. She explained the corrupted elixir of Saqnos, and the fragments of information regarding the nochtin, those like Cleopatra raised from the dead. In a hushed voice, on the edge of tears, she explained the dreadful threat that now darkened the future for Cleopatra, that she might soon go mad.

  Then she went on to recount the story of Sibyl Parker. She spoke of migrant souls, and mysteries of life after death. She spoke of Sibyl’s dreams and Cleopatra’s dreams, and the link between them. She spoke again of the placid and unfathomable nature of the great Bektaten.

  And she explained that Sibyl Parker was now welcome in the house of Bektaten, Bektaten who might share the pure elixir with the wounded Cleopatra should Bektaten be asked.

  All the while Elliott listened in amazement. Finally Julie fell silent and looked to Ramses to go on.

  “This great queen and I have a treaty of sorts,” said Ramses. “She wants no more rash acts on my part, no attempts ever again to wake the dead. She has the power of life and death over me, over all of us, yet she accepts my bold claim to determine when and how I might pass on the elixir again.”

  He studied the earl, as always impressed with the quick intelligence evident in the earl’s eyes.

  “But at any time,” said Ramses, “this queen may decide to assert her authority over all of us who share this immortal journey with her. And we must, all of us, beware of this danger. We must never underestimate the power of Bektaten. We must never count on her indifference. She is now part of our world.”

  Elliott nodded. “I wish that I had shared the chance to meet this woman,” he said. “But perhaps someday, whether I want it or not, I will find myself in her presence.”

  “Yes, that could be,” said Ramses. “She travels with only two attendants, men as dark of complexion as she is, and in their own way as impressive, Aktamu and Enamon, but there is no telling how many mortals she may have at her command. She has not told us the full story of her life.”

  “I admire her,” said Julie with
her usual sweetness and enthusiasm. “I trust her, trust that she’ll never harm us, never subject us to caprice or pure will.” She glanced for approval to Ramses, and seeing his impassive face she went quiet.

  “You have a great heart, Julie,” said Ramses. “You have managed to love them all—Sibyl Parker, my broken Cleopatra, and even this powerful queen.”

  “It’s true, Ramses, but how can I not be a creature of instinct, even more now than before? If she meant to hurt us, she would have done it, surely.”

  “Yes, perhaps,” said Ramses. “But we must never forget what we’ve seen with our own eyes. The queen tends a garden of many mysterious blooms.”

  He reached for the wine to refill Elliott’s crystal goblet. And the earl nodded gratefully. Their eyes met again, and then Elliott spoke.

  “I don’t ask you for the elixir for my son, Alex,” he said. “I’ve pondered this for some time. It is my belief that Alex has a destiny, and that is to marry, to have children, to continue the Savarell line—all of which the elixir would bring to an end. Of course there may come a time when he may ask for the elixir. I wanted it from the very first moment I suspected its existence. So why shouldn’t he? But I see my son’s youth and I see his capacity for love, and I do see a marriage and children in his future. I can’t deny it.”

  “I see this too,” said Julie. “But to the point, Alex knows of the elixir, but he has not asked. And now it seems Cleopatra no longer asks for more of it to make her well.”

  “We have time to decide these many things,” said Ramses. He rose from the table and moved across the carpet of the drawing room until he found himself close to the fire. He reached out to feel its direct heat. He thought again of this war in Europe, this dark tragedy that had fallen over the world he had only just discovered.

  “Well, I must be going,” said Elliott, rising to his feet. “I must get out of London. I must not be seen again by Edith, and I must not be seen by Alex, and I must not be seen by old friends. I have no choice but to go back to the Continent no matter what the war brings, but I don’t advise either of you to come with me. I advise you to remain here, to travel in England, to go north, perhaps, to find some refuge for yourself until we see what this war reveals.”

  “But, Elliott,” said Julie, “when will we meet again?”

  “I don’t know,” said Elliott. “I can reach you at this address, can I not, and through Stratford Shipping, and through your solicitors.”

  “Always,” said Julie. “Or at least until—. But that won’t be for many years.”

  “And I shall give you this,” said Elliott, removing a card from his jacket pocket. “The address and number of my new private solicitor, unknown to my family.”

  Ramses took the card from his hands. He memorized the names, the numbers.

  “And of course there are the family representatives,” said Elliott. “After I’m gone, officially, that is, you’ll have to rely on the new man. I may go from the Continent to America. I haven’t yet made up my mind. I have a great desire to see South America in particular, to see Brazil, and to travel through the more mysterious lands….”

  He stopped. He picked up his hooded overcoat, and then he stopped again and looked at Julie. The tears in his eyes. She rushed into his arms. They embraced in silence, and Ramses heard Elliott’s whisper. “Beautiful child, beautiful immortal child.”

  “I’ve come to a decision,” said Ramses. “Before you leave us, I want to give you the secret of the elixir. I want the ingredients engraved on your minds, both of you, as they are engraved on mine.”

  “No,” said Elliott. “I thank you for your trust, Ramses, but I don’t want it. I can’t trust myself with it. Not now.”

  “But, Elliott, what if this war or some other circumstance separates us?” asked Ramses. “What if it’s years before we meet again?”

  “No, Ramses. I’m not ready for that burden. I know I’m not. My heart isn’t experienced enough. And it won’t be for many years.”

  Ramses nodded. “You have always surprised me, Elliott Savarell,” he said. “You are indeed a truly unusual man.”

  “There will come a time, yes,” said Elliott, “when I may beg you for the secret. But you mustn’t give it to me now.”

  For a long moment they remained there in quiet together, stranded in the drawing room, gazing at one another, and then finally Elliott approached Ramses and embraced him. He whispered the words “Until we meet again.”

  Julie and Ramses stood behind the lace curtains of the window watching the figure of the earl as he moved out of sight.

  Noises came from the dark surrounding city, unusual noises, noises near and distant and out of keeping with the small hours, noises perhaps that spoke of dread and excitement on the part of the restless populace in the grip of the news of the war. Ramses longed for newspapers to read, for the conversation in taverns and cafés, for the wireless and voices of government speaking of what was to come.

  But there was time for all that.

  “I shall miss him terribly,” said Julie.

  “And what about you, my beloved?” said Ramses. “Are you ready for the secret I have to give?”

  “No, I don’t think I am, my dearest,” said Julie. “I think I know precisely what Elliott means when he says he’s not ready. I fear my love for Sibyl Parker, for Alex. I fear my heart. I think I must trust in you for now and perhaps forever, Ramses. I think you must be the one to give this gift, not me.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” Ramses replied. But he nodded. This would do for now. He turned and embraced her and held her close to him.

  “Very well, my darling,” he said. “And so we go on as before. So we begin our journey again through the world.”

  “Not now, precious one,” she said. “Perhaps in a few hours, yes. But for now, it’s quite enough for me if we journey one more time up those stairs.”

  “Allow me,” he said, and he gathered her up in his arms.

  Up the long stairway he carried her and into the bedroom, and laying her down on the bed, he closed and locked the door. He wanted no more sudden visitors, no servants returning with talk of the war.

  It was still dark outside. A shivering night-light in a porcelain shade illuminated the room.

  Julie lay back against the pillows gazing up at him, her pale skin almost luminous in the shadows, her blue eyes filled with love.

  He marveled at the sadness he felt, at the sadness that had gripped the three of them earlier, because he was happier now, he knew, than he had ever been in all his long life. He was happy and filled with quiet courage for what lay ahead of them all.

  Ramses the Damned he was still, yes, in ways no one might ever understand. He would be that always. But he was happy and he knew it, and he cherished every moment.

  Enough of thinking when the heart tripped and the blood grew hot and his body came alive with the single wordless obsession with her presence, her beauty, her patient gaze.

  He pulled off his clothes roughly, stepped out of them, and fell silently into her arms, his lips pressed first to her eyelids and then to her naked breasts and finally to her sweet upturned mouth.

  All thoughts of his broken Cleopatra left him. All fascination for the distant and all-powerful queen. All fascination for the world and this war that threatened it. And he gave in to the source of strength for him that was greater than any other. Her tender acceptance, her surrender, her quiet unending love.

  What’s next on

  your reading list?

  Discover your next

  great read!

  * * *

  Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.

  Sign up now.

 

 

 
-webkit-filter: grayscale(100%); -moz-filter: grayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share