The morning was so fresh and bright; their breakfast had been so good and so unusual; they had actually seen the Amulet round the Egyptian's neck. One or two, or all these things, suddenly raised the children's spirits. They went off quite cheerfully through the city gate--it was not arched, but roofed over with a great flat stone--and so through the street, which smelt horribly of fish and garlic and a thousand other things even less agreeable. But far worse than the street scents was the scent of the factory, where the skipper called in to sell his night's catch. I wish I could tell you all about that factory, but I haven't time, and perhaps after all you aren't interested in dyeing works. I will only mention that Robert was triumphantly proved to be right. The dye WAS a yellowish-white liquid of a creamy consistency, and it smelt more strongly of garlic than garlic itself does.
While the skipper was bargaining with the master of the dye works the Egyptian came close to the children, and said, suddenly and softly--'Trust me.'
'I wish we could,' said Anthea.
'You feel,' said the Egyptian, 'that I want your Amulet. That makes you distrust me.'
'Yes,' said Cyril bluntly.
'But you also, you want my Amulet, and I am trusting you.'
'There's something in that,' said Robert.
'We have the two halves of the Amulet,' said the Priest, 'but not yet the pin that joined them. Our only chance of getting that is to remain together. Once part these two halves and they may never be found in the same time and place. Be wise. Our interests are the same.'
Before anyone could say more the skipper came back, and with him the dye-master. His hair and beard were curled like the men's in Babylon, and he was dressed like the skipper, but with added grandeur of gold and embroidery. He had necklaces of beads and silver, and a glass amulet with a man's face, very like his own, set between two bull's heads, as well as gold and silver bracelets and armlets. He looked keenly at the children. Then he said--'My brother Pheles has just come back from Tarshish. He's at his garden house--unless he's hunting wild boar in the marshes. He gets frightfully bored on shore.'
'Ah,' said the skipper, 'he's a true-born Phoenician. "Tyre, Tyre for ever! Oh, Tyre rules the waves!" as the old song says.
I'll go at once, and show him my young barbarians.'
'I should,' said the dye-master. 'They are very rum, aren't they? What frightful clothes, and what a lot of them! Observe the covering of their feet. Hideous indeed.'
Robert could not help thinking how easy, and at the same time pleasant, it would be to catch hold of the dye-master's feet and tip him backward into the great sunken vat just near him. But if he had, flight would have had to be the next move, so he restrained his impulse.
There was something about this Tyrian adventure that was different from all the others. It was, somehow, calmer. And there was the undoubted fact that the charm was there on the neck of the Egyptian.
So they enjoyed everything to the full, the row from the Island City to the shore, the ride on the donkeys that the skipper hired at the gate of the mainland city, and the pleasant country--palms and figs and cedars all about. It was like a garden--clematis, honeysuckle, and jasmine clung about the olive and mulberry trees, and there were tulips and gladiolus, and clumps of mandrake, which has bell-flowers that look as though they were cut out of dark blue jewels. In the distance were the mountains of Lebanon. The house they came to at last was rather like a bungalow--long and low, with pillars all along the front. Cedars and sycamores grew near it and sheltered it pleasantly.
Everyone dismounted, and the donkeys were led away.
'Why is this like Rosherville?' whispered Robert, and instantly supplied the answer.
'Because it's the place to spend a happy day.'
'It's jolly decent of the skipper to have brought us to such a ripping place,' said Cyril.
'Do you know,' said Anthea, 'this feels more real than anything else we've seen? It's like a holiday in the country at home.'
The children were left alone in a large hall. The floor was mosaic, done with wonderful pictures of ships and sea-beasts and fishes. Through an open doorway they could see a pleasant courtyard with flowers.
'I should like to spend a week here,' said Jane, 'and donkey ride every day.'
Everyone was feeling very jolly. Even the Egyptian looked pleasanter than usual. And then, quite suddenly, the skipper came back with a joyous smile. With him came the master of the house. He looked steadily at the children and nodded twice.
'Yes,' he said, 'my steward will pay you the price. But I shall not pay at that high rate for the Egyptian dog.'
The two passed on.
'This,' said the Egyptian, 'is a pretty kettle of fish.'
'What is?' asked all the children at once.
'Our present position,' said Rekh-mara. 'Our seafaring friend,' he added, 'has sold us all for slaves!'
A hasty council succeeded the shock of this announcement. The Priest was allowed to take part in it. His advice was 'stay', because they were in no danger, and the Amulet in its completeness must be somewhere near, or, of course, they could not have come to that place at all. And after some discussion they agreed to this.
The children were treated more as guests than as slaves, but the Egyptian was sent to the kitchen and made to work.
Pheles, the master of the house, went off that very evening, by the King's orders, to start on another voyage. And when he was gone his wife found the children amusing company, and kept them talking and singing and dancing till quite late. 'To distract my mind from my sorrows,' she said.
'I do like being a slave,' remarked Jane cheerfully, as they curled up on the big, soft cushions that were to be their beds.
It was black night when they were awakened, each by a hand passed softly over its face, and a low voice that whispered--'Be quiet, or all is lost.'
So they were quiet.
'It's me, Rekh-mara, the Priest of Amen,' said the whisperer.
