The house was more spacious than the mud huts in Amarna. I was ushered to the seat of honor on a frayed hassock. Word had spread to neighboring women, who crowded into the room. Nefret and I were presented with glasses of tea and a plate of sweet, buttery ghorayebahs, my favorite Egyptian biscuits. Nefret and the women chattered amiably while I tried not to make a glutton of myself.

The timbre of the conversation gradually changed. I had missed what Nefret had asked them, but I could tell that the women were disturbed. I recognized the words for “Germans,” “Englishmen,” and “Egyptians.” Many of the women became so distraught that they raised their voices to drown out one another. Dullard’s name began to be included in their tirades. I was flabbergasted; I had presumed his name would be said with reverence, not contempt. I caught the Arabic words for “weapon” (slah) and “war” (harb), a frightening combination that gave me a chill.

Nefret stood next to me and patted my shoulder. “I think it best that we leave, Aunt Amelia. I will tell them you are feeling unwell due to your abundant consumption of ghorayebahs. The hostess will be flattered.” She resumed speaking in Arabic as we headed for the door.

“Shukran,” I called with a frail wave. The frailty was by no means the result of too many biscuits (after all, I had not eaten any breakfast); the references to war had unnerved me. Once we were away from the houses, I stopped. “I could not follow the exchange with any exactitude. War? Are these few hundred Coptic Christians plotting to overthrow the government, or are they going to invade the Vatican?”

“Mr. Dullard is trotting this way,” she replied urgently. “Let us attempt to get to the pier before he catches up with us. I cannot respond to him with civility, and I think it is a sin to kick a missionary.”

I glanced up as Dullard increased his pace. “I have read the Bible in its entirety, and kicking missionaries is not among the seven deadly sins. Please note that Daoud has assessed the situation and will be at our side long before Dullard—who has begun to retreat.” I linked my arm through hers. “Now I desire to know what you learned.”

Her terse recitation stunned me. She caught me as I stumbled and obliged me to sit down until my mind stopped whirling. Daoud offered to carry me to our boat, but I waved him off.

“I need to hear this again,” I said to Nefret, “but please go into greater detail. Dullard came to Deir el-Mowass about three months ago, correct?”