The Seventh Scroll by Wilbur Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

dollars. Duraid said that he had used the money for the running of the museum, but that the second frieze, the finest of the pair, was still in Sir Nicholas's possession.
    Both these expeditions had taken place years before Royan had met Duraid, and she wondered idly at Duraid's readiness to commit himself to the Englishman in this way.
    Sir Nicholas must have had unique powers of persuasion, for if they had been apprehended in the act there was no doubt that it would have meant summary execution for both of them.
    As Duraid had explained to her, on each occasion it was only Nicholas's resourcefulness and his network of friends and admirers across the Middle East and North Africa, which he had been able to call on for help, that had seen them through.
    "He is a bit of a devil," Duraid had shaken his head with evident nostalgia at the memory, "but the man to have with you when things are tough. Those days were all very exciting, but when I look back on it now I shudder at the risks we took."
    She had often pondered on the risks that a true inthe-blood collector was prepared to take to slake his passion. The risk seemed to be out of proportion to the reward, when it came to adding to his accumulations; and then she smiled at her own pious sentiments. The venture that she hoped to lead Sir Nicholas into was not exactly without risk, and she supposed that a circumlocution of lawyers might debate the legality of it endlessly.
    Still smiling, she fell asleep, for the strain of these last few days had taken their toll. The air hostess woke her with an admonition to fasten her seatbelt for the landing at Heathrow. an phoned her mother from the airport.
    ello, Mummy. It's me."
    "Yes, I know that. Where are you, love?" Her mother sounded as unflappable as ever. -'At Heathrow. I am coming up to stay with you for a while. Is that all right?"
    "Lumley's and ," her mother chuckled. "I'll go and make your bed. What train will you be coming up on?"
    "I had a look at the timetable. There is one from King's Cross that will get me into York at seven this evening."
    "I'll meet you at the station. What happened? Did you and Duraid have a tiff? Old enough to be your father. I said it wouldn't work." Royan was silent for a moment. This was hardly the time for explanations.
    "I'll tell you all about it when I see you this evening." Georgina Lumley, her mother, was waiting on the platform in the gloom and cold of the November evening, bulky and solid in her old green Barbour coat with Magic, her cocker spaniel, sitting obediently at her feet. The two of them made an inseparable pair, even when they were not winning field trials cups. For Royan they painted a comforting and familiar picture of the English side of her lineage.
    Georgina kissed Royan's cheek in a perfunctory manner. "Never was one for all that sentimental fiddle, faddle," she often said with satisfaction, and she took one of Royan's bags and led the way to the old mud-splattered Land Rover in the car park.

    Magic sniffed Royan's hand and wagged his tail in recognition. Then in a dignified and condescending manner he allowed her to pat his head, but like his mistress he was no great sentimentalist either.
    . They drove in silence for a while and Georgina lit a cigarette. "So what happened to Duraid, then?"
    For a minute Royan could not reply, and then the floodgates within her burst and she let it all come pouring out. It was a twenty-minute drive north of York to the little village of Brandsbury, and Royan talked all the way. Her mother made only small sounds of encouragement and comfort, and when Royan wept as she related the details of Duraid's death and funeral, Georgina reached across and patted her daughter's hand.
    It was all over by the time they reached her mother's cottage in the village. Royan had cried it out and was dryeyed and rational again as they ate the dinner that her mother had prepared and left in the oven for them. Royan could not remember when last she had tasted