Read Last Act in Palmyra for Free Online Page A

calmly, ‘That’s the impression the cautious Nabataeans like to give. Now gape at the opulent rock carving, sweetheart, and try to look as if you just popped this side of the mountain to buy a pair of Indian earrings and a length of turquoise silk.’
    â€˜Don’t mix me up with your previous trashy girlfriends!’ she rounded on me crossly, as a Nabataean irregular who was obviously checking for suspicious faces wandered past. Helena took my point. ‘I may buy a bale in its natural state, but I’ll have it bleached a good plain white at home…’
    We had passed muster. Easily fooled, these guards! Either that, or they were sentimentalists who could not bear to arrest a hen-pecked man.
    There had not been, yesterday, much time for me to sort out what lay behind Helena’s wrath. Nervous about how long we could keep up our act as innocent travellers, I had taken us very hastily into town along the dry dirt track that curved away past numerous cliffside tombs and temples. We noticed that although this was a desert, there were gardens everywhere. The Nabataeans possessed spring water, and made the most of conserving rainfall. For people still close to their nomadic roots, they were surprisingly fine engineers. All the same it was a desert; when it did rain on our journey, a shower had covered our clothing with fine reddish dust, and when we combed our hair, black grit had worked in right to the scalp.
    At the end of the track lay a settlement, with many fine houses and public buildings as well as a tightly packed lower-class habitation full of small square dwellings, each set behind its own walled courtyard. I had found us a room, at a price that showed the Petrans knew exactly what a room was worth in the middle of the desert. Then I spent the evening scouting the walls to the north and south of the city. They were nothing spectacular, for the Nabataeans had long preferred to make treaties rather than physically resist hostility – a trick made easier by their custom of offering to guide invading troops through the desert, then taking the longest, most difficult route so that the troops arrived at Petra too exhausted to start fighting. (Most armies lack Helena’s stamina.)
    *   *   *
    She was looking at me now in a way that made her considerably more attractive than most armies. She was completely wrapped in stoles against the heat, so she looked cool, though I could feel her warmth as I held her against me. She smelled of sweet almond oil.
    â€˜This is a wonderful place,’ she conceded. Her voice had dropped to a murmur. Those rich dark eyes of hers still flashed, but I had fallen in love with Helena when she was angry; she was well aware of the effect it still had on me. ‘I certainly see the world with you.’
    â€˜That’s generous.’ I fought back, though with a familiar sense of imminent surrender. At even closer quarters our eyes met. Hers were not scathing at all when you knew her, but redolent of good humour and intelligence. ‘Helena, are you following the local rule of suing for peace?’
    â€˜Better to safeguard what you have,’ she agreed. ‘It’s a good Petran system.’
    â€˜Thanks.’ I favour the laconic in negotiation. I hoped Helena had not heard of the Nabataeans’ other political custom: sending away their won-over opponents with large quantities of treasure. The Falco purse, as usual, was not up to it.
    â€˜Yes, you can skip the exorbitant gifts,’ she smiled, though I had said nothing.
    Asserting my rights, I slid my other arm around her. It was accepted as a term in the treaty. I started to feel happy again.
    The sun beat down on the glowing rocks, where huge clumps of dark tulips with dusty leaves clung tenaciously. The voices ahead of us had passed out of earshot. We were alone in the warm silence, in what seemed a not unfriendly place.
    Helena and I had a history of friendly