I was lucky enough to go on a Nile Cruise in October. I made lots of notes for a future Aunt Jessica and Harry mystery though this year has been so busy I’m way behind with my writing schedule.

For this month’s blog, I thought I’d give you a short story inspired by our visit to Kom Ombo.
Happy reading.
The Ring
Another cruise boat came into view to join the line of vessels already tied up at the riverbank. Bassem sighed and shrank back into the protective shade of the tree, but Uncle Gamal was already stirring. Bassem kept his gaze firmly fixed on the nearest boat so as not to catch the old man’s eye. Better to risk a cuff on the ear than spend longer than need be standing under the noonday sun.
He knew his uncle was a good person, his mother frequently told him so, but that did not make Bassem fond of the grumpy old man who was forever finding fault.
‘On your feet, boy.’ Tourists were passing so the warning in the low growl was all the admonishment that Gamal could give. Bassem must be ready standing with the donkey by the low wall so that the engaging little group was the first thing that visitors noticed as they stepped off the boat.
‘Just look at that child. Isn’t he adorable?’
‘Couldn’t you just eat him?’ The first time he had heard that cry, his courage had failed, and he had run to hide behind Uncle Gamal. He could still picture the wobbly pink flesh towering over him. The vision of those fat dimpled knees beneath the canary yellow shorts moving relentlessly ever nearer still haunted his dreams on bad nights. Now he was more experienced, he understood that like so many of the comments made by the rich foreigners, it meant nothing. Nevertheless, such statements still made him uneasy especially as those who made such remarks looked as though they were more than capable of consuming a small child in a single sitting.
The men were busy with their cameras, twiddling knobs and changing lenses. Uncle Gamal held out his hand to ensure that payment was made before any photographs could be taken. A few of the women with their quick point-and-click cameras had already secured their shots, but they knew the drill and were happy to pass over the required baksheesh to the old man. Several fished in their voluminous bags and came out with sweets and ballpoint pens for Bassem. He would take them back for Zaki and Ibrahim. He didn’t like it when the visitors patted his tight curls, but he knew he must look up and smile. At six years old, he was now the main provider for his family since the death of his father. The more money handed over, the more Uncle Gamal would give to his mother. Bassem was only entitled to a small share because Gamal not only owned the donkey, but he also did all the negotiations. The farmer who allowed them to stand at the edge of his field also demanded his cut of the takings leaving little enough for Bassem to take home.
Bassem would have noticed the beautiful lady who appeared on deck even if she had not looked so melancholy. The slim, fair-haired figure was such a contrast to the usual older and well-wrinkled travellers who jostled each other in their eagerness to view the next site. She paused at the top of the gangway as though reluctant to join the rest of her party. As he posed for the clicking cameras, Bassem took furtive glances up at her. He was fascinated by the way the sunlight filtered through the patterns cut in the wide brim of her sun hat casting attractive shadows over her solemn countenance.
A sudden call from within made her look over her shoulder. Immediately she hurried down the gangway and Bassem lost sight of her as she slipped into the back of the crowd. The beguiling shy smile he had been taught to turn upon his potential benefactors slipped away. A young man appeared in the doorway. Even from this distance, Bassem could see the worried frown above the narrowed eyes scrutinising the crowd below. He was wearing neither hat nor sunglasses, but once he had spotted what he was looking for, he hurried down regardless.
Eventually the snap-happy photographers had had their fill and began to drift away turning their attention, and their cameras, on the ruined pillars on the hill above.
‘Here at Kom Ombo is the only temple overlooking the Nile to be dedicated to two deities.’ As the tour guide began his eulogy, the crowd moved on to gather around him.
There was a time when Bassem too had listened with wonder and excitement to the tales of Sobek, the crocodile-headed god, and the falcon-headed Haroeris, but now all his thoughts were focused on the sad lady. He scanned the slowly moving throng hoping to catch another glimpse of her.
As the crowd ambled on, he spotted the tall, young man weaving his way through the gradually thinning mass of people. The beautiful lady must have seen him too because she slipped to one side to evade his search. Eventually everyone passed on until she was the only one left.
‘Give you good price, lady.’ A passing post card seller thrust his wares under her nose, but she waved him away and came to sit on the low wall.
As there was no more money to be made until the next boat arrived, Uncle Gamal went back to sit under the tree. Even the donkey had moved into the shade, but Bassem still stood, his eyes fixed on the young woman. Tentatively, he made his way towards her. He stopped as she turned and caught sight of him. Her smile made her even more beautiful.
‘I’m afraid I’ve nothing to give you,’ she said holding out empty hands.
Bassem shook his head. He would have liked to tell her that all he wanted was to take the sorrow from her eyes, but he didn’t have the words in his own language let alone hers.
‘Lady not go to temple?’
‘In a minute.’
‘Go see crocodiles?’
‘You mean the carvings on the pillars?’
‘No, no. Real crocodiles. Over two thousand years old.’
‘Not still alive I hope.’ Her eyes were round in mock horror and her soft laughter made his heart sing.
He could not stop the fit of giggles and neither heard the approach of the man until he caught hold of her arm.
‘Sarah, I thought I’d lost you.’
‘Leave me alone!’ She jumped up and pulled away from him.
Bassem watched anxiously. He wanted to clamber over the wall and run to her defence, but he knew his feeble efforts would be futile and Uncle Gamal might hit him with his stick again.
Bassem could see the pain clearly written on the man’s face. She would not listen to his pleading and tried to follow the others going up to the temple. Every time she moved, the tall man dodged back in front of her.
‘Leave her alone!’
Neither heard his cry. Uncle Gamal looked up and shouted something, but Bassem was too preoccupied to pay attention to the old man.
He watched as the beautiful lady tore a ring from the finger of her left hand and held it out. The young man shook his head and would not take it.
She was talking so quickly Bassem could not make out the words.
The young man had his hands over his face.
‘Take it.’ Once more she held out the ring on the flat of her palm.
As his hands dropped, he knocked her arm, and the ring went flying. She dodged around him and ran up the path. The man lifted his face to the sun, screwed up his eyes then dropped his head once more. Bassem had never seen a grown man cry before.
Neither had bothered about the ring. Bassem had watched it arc over the wall and splash into the water trench at the edge of the field.
Several passers-by were staring at the young man, but he was oblivious to their curious, concerned glances. He turned and ran after the beautiful lady.
No one else had seen what had happened to the ring. Even Uncle Gamal had his head down dosing in the shade. Bassem crept along the wall to where the ring had landed. Pushing up the wide sleeve of his galabia, Bassem put his hand into the muddy puddle. Gently he slid his fingers over the slime feeling for the precious object. Several times he felt a surge of joy only to have his hopes dashed when his find proved no more than a pebble. If he did not come across it soon, his antics would be noticed. He had almost given up hope when his fingers closed over the ring.
Under the cover of the wall, he took a surreptitious look at his prize. In the centre of the band of gold was a shiny, red jewel surrounded by tiny, glittering stones. Even caked in mud, the thing sparkled where it caught the sunlight. Bassem had no doubt that the value of the ring would keep his small family in essentials for years. It was probably worth more than he would earn until he grew as old as Uncle Gamal. Bassem knew exactly what he was going to do.
The thing burned in his pocket. He had no intention of letting the old man know what he had found. Uncle Gamal was sure to know a dealer who would give him a good price, but the pittance he returned to Bassem would be less than a day’s wages.
The old man was stirring. Another cruise boat was about to tie up. He signalled to Bassem back to his position.
Long before he could expect their return, Bassem kept staring back along the road. He scrutinised every group that passed. Uncle Gamal had to poke him several times when he failed to keep his eye on the cameras.
He had almost given up hope when he spotted the green and white sundress in the distance. Quietly, so as not to attract attention from Uncle Gamal who was talking to a friend during one of the brief lulls, Bassem got up and moved as far away as he dare. He laughed out loud when he saw that she was walking with the young man. They were holding hands and were so busy looking into each other’s eyes they seemed unaware of the world around them. Bassem was worried that they might not even glance in his direction.
‘Pretty lady,’ he called softly, eager not to alert Uncle Gamal’s suspicions.
He frantically signalled to her, and she waved back. He beckoned again, jumping up and down in his frustration till they eased through the throng to join him.
‘What is it, young fellow?’ The man’s fair skin, without the protection of a hat, was already turning pink but he was evidently too elated to worry about such things.
Shyly, Bassem took hold of the lady’s hand, turned it over and put the ring on her palm.
Her still silence made him think that he had done the wrong thing until she leant down and kissed his cheek.
‘I think that deserves a reward,’ said the young man reaching to his pocket.
Bassem shook his head violently.
The man took out a wodge of notes, more than Bassem had ever seen at one time. Bassem kept his hands firmly behind his back stealing a quick glance at Uncle Gamal. The young man seemed to understand. He leant forward and quietly slipped the money into Bassem’s pocket. ‘You deserve it,’ he said.
‘I’ll never forget you, little one.’ He could feel his heart pounding with joy and pride.
She slipped the ring back on her finger and the two hurried back to the boat. At the top of the gangway, they turned and gave him one last wave.
A frown furrowed the small brow. He would never see his beautiful lady again.
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