“I am as eager as you are. Fatima is already rattling around in the kitchen. She will insist that Emerson, Ramses, David, and the lad do justice to her breakfast. Emerson will be forced to remain until she is satisfied, and that will take some time, no matter how much he protests. Shall we join Daoud?”

There was no breeze, which required Daoud to row downstream to a dilapidated pier that looked as though it might topple into the water of the Nile at any moment. Nefret and I climbed out of the boat and trod charily on the splintery, weathered planks until we were safely on terra firma. Daoud jumped into the shallow water and dragged the boat until it scraped on the rocky sandbar.

While we were traversing the river, I had contemplated how best to achieve rapport with the Copts. They claim their religious conversion to St. Mark, who went to Alexandria early in the first century to spread Christianity. They were persecuted under the rule of the Roman Empire, and intermittently after the Arab conquests. Their history of survival was as erratic as the undulating dunes of the Western Desert. At the present time, they lived peacefully in their Christian conclaves. I had explained my proposal to my companions, emphasizing to Daoud that he needed to remain at the edge of the cultivation.

As we neared the village, I viewed the houses and estimated the population to be approximately five hundred. One of the larger houses displayed a cross above the door, indicating it was the place of worship. A dozen women were gathered around the community well delineated by a waist-high wall of mud bricks; they watched us with puckered brows of distrust. Most of them had never seen fair-skinned strangers. Nefret’s blond hair, glimmering in the early rays of sunlight, resembled a halo, and her face was angelic.

“Sabah el-kheir,” she greeted them. “Ana esmi Nefret.”

“Sabah el-kheir,” I said with a cordial smile. “Ana esmi Amelia.”

As I mentioned earlier, my Arabic is functional but not fluently elegant, and not always attuned to the different dialects found in small villages. My pronunciation can be laughable, which is to say it often elicits laughter. I had primed Nefret to ask particular questions when the opportunity presented itself. I did my best to follow the ensuing rapid conversation in a very local dialect between Nefret and the group of women dressed in long robes and head scarves. I understood that we were invited to partake of tea in one of their houses, and nodded graciously. As I followed the women, I looked back at Daoud and shook my head. He scowled, but abided by my instruction that he not interfere unless I called for him.